


A Cabin in Bighorn Forest

by ThisIsMyChilledPose (NewFortuna)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Childbirth, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Forced adoption, Friendship, High School Drama, Homophobia, Humor, M/M, Male Friendship, Mpreg, Religion, a bunch of gay boys trapped in a remote cabin together, conversion therapy vibes, what can go wrong?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 09:32:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewFortuna/pseuds/ThisIsMyChilledPose
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Barnaby Dale just told his parents that he's gay. He didn't really have a choice considering he's also pregnant. Their reaction? To send him to a woodland retreat for wayward pregnant boys.





	1. A Home Away From Home

 A yellowing lace curtain let in stripes of grey-white November sun, illuminating the billion specks of dust floating around the Chaplain’s office. Every last part of the room was covered in mismatched wood; probably handmade from the acres of forest directly outside, visible from the window. Barnaby Dale’s oak chair creaked with every uncomfortable fidget he made and he tried his best to stay still whilst staring deep into the light birch floor.

His mother was crying into a handkerchief. She had barely stopped for a whole week since she found out. That, Barnaby had decided, was the worst part of this whole thing. He could volley his father’s anger with more anger but seeing his mother cry like that was killing him inside. His little brother, Oscar, playfully rolled his eyes at Mom’s loud nose blowing. He was trying to make Barnaby smile. Oscar could always make Barnaby smile with the tiniest of expressions. It hadn’t been working recently though.

“We just don’t know what to do,” Mom said through sobs. Chaplain Willet looked on in sympathy. He had a halo of white, fluffy hair and a round, understanding face. Barnaby’s case was likely nothing new for him. “Everyone at school would stare. And Oscar, we can’t put him through that too, he did nothing wrong.”

 _He did nothing wrong_. Mom hadn’t directly blamed Barnaby for what was happening, but that slip of the tongue was the closest she had come so far.

“I don’t get it,” Dad shrugged. “He was a straight-A student, star of the basketball team, the girls loved him – the amount of attention he got from the cheerleaders, I mean…”

  
Barnaby had never realized how warped his dad’s perception of his was. Yes, he was a good student, but he was hardly the  _star_  of the basketball team; he was just really tall. And the reason the girls loved him so much was that he was so obviously a gay non-threat that they could fawn over him risk-free. Poor Dad. No wonder the whole thing was such a shock to his system. It was a really nice double whammy too; your son’s gay  _and_  pregnant. At least Oscar could see him day-to-day in high school; he’d trust Barnaby to be his wingman for the same girls who hagged over his big brother. It’s Oscar he felt most sorry for in all this. He hoped no one would give him a hard time about it. 

Chaplain Willet rested his chin on his clasped hands. “I understand Mr. Dale. You’ve done the right thing by coming here. We are but lambs and God is our shepherd. We can all be led astray at times, what’s important is that we find our way back onto the path of righteousness. Don’t you agree, Barnaby?”

  
Barnaby, who was so unused to being addressed by his proper name, snapped back to attention. “Uh yeah- yes. I agree.”

Willet reached out and grabbed Barnaby’s hand. “You will be allowing a poor barren couple to have the family they’ve always dreamed of. You can stay in a safe place away from the prying eyes of the outside world and then return to your normal life. Isn’t that what we all want? A normal life?”

Nothing felt like his normal life anymore. He hadn’t taken the news stories seriously, all the buzzings over the past two years, it sounded like fake news urban legend crap. It was always someone who went to school with someone’s cousin in another state, or the threatening fables of their Pastor on a Sunday morning warning about the “dangers of sodomy.” It didn’t even register as a thought when Theo told Barnaby that if he  _really_  loved him…

“We just want what’s best for our Barney,” Mom said, her voice still shaky. “Even if that means… he’ll be away from us for a few months.”

She buried her face in her handkerchief again. Barnaby slid further down into his chair. Oscar followed suit, trying to be as loud and creaky as possible as he did so. Okay, this did make Barnaby smile a little bit.

A soft rap at the door broke the tension. Willet briskly got up from his chair.

“Please come in.” He gestured for the Dales to look to the door. “Claude will show you to your room.”

The door gently swung open and in waddled Claude. He was maybe a year or two older than Barnaby with a ruddy farm-boy face and a pageboy haircut. Even under his loose linen smock, Barnaby could tell that this boy was ready to give birth any week, if not any minute now.

“I’ll have your parents sign the papers and you can say your goodbyes.” Willet slid the paper over to Mom and Dad. Dad grabbed the pen without hesitation, printing, signing and dating Barnaby’s freedom away.

“I’ll let you have some privacy,” Willet said as he took the paper and pen back. He stood up and walked out of the office, contract in hand.

Mom tried to smile through her tear-stained face. “Thank you, Chaplain.”

“Have a blessed day.”

As soon as Willet was gone, she threw herself around Barnaby. She only came up to his ribcage.

“Promise me you’ll be good.”

“I promise, Mom.” He wasn’t sure what else he was  _supposed_  to do.

“And you’ll write to us when you can.”

“You too.”

“I’ll make you your favorite dinner when you come home.”

This wasn’t that momentous a task; his favorite meal was box mac and cheese.

“I love you, Barney.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

She started crying again as soon as she let go. His father didn’t hug him. His eyes darted from Claude to Barnaby and then from Claude’s huge round stomach to Barnaby’s still flat one. He glowered.

“See you in the summer,” he said gruffly before tending to Mom.

Oscar pulled a face. “You’re the lucky one, I have to put up with this all the way home.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“I know you’re already writing to Mom, but…”

“Oh, you bet we’re having a brother’s only line-“

Oscar threw himself at Barnaby, his arms so tightly around him it was hard to breathe.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Oscar said, displaying a rare hint of sincerity.

“I’ll miss you too.” Barnaby’s chin rested on the top of Oscar’s messy brown hair. It was the one thing they shared. Barnaby was tall, skinny and quiet where Oscar was short, stocky and loud, but they had the same mousy, moppish excuse of a hairstyle. He wondered if Oscar had the mutation too. He tried to imagine being on the other side of this hug a year from now. He held Oscar tighter.

After another minute, Oscar let go. “Can I use your Steam account?”

Barnaby smiled. Properly this time. “As long as you don’t buy a bunch of shit on it.”

“Deal.” He backed up, joining Mom and Dad at the open door leading towards the front entrance. “See you later.”

“Later,” Barnaby said, waving the three of them goodbye as they walked with WIllet through one door and then another as they returned to the real world, leaving Barnaby behind. 

Claude, who had been pretending to be fascinated by a landscape painting on the wall, turned his attention back to Barnaby. “Let’s get you some supplies.”

Claude, walking like some sort of pendulum to keep balanced, retraced Mom, Dad and Oscar’s steps back out of the office, and down the hallway further into the retreat. He stopped at a storage closet from which he pulled out a gigantic plastic ziplock bag containing folded bedsheets and several pairs of clothes. He struggled as he bent down to also collect two pairs of shoes.

“I can get those,” Barnaby offered, holding out his hands to take the clothes and bedsheets.

“No trouble at all,” Claude insisted, holding onto the closet’s door handle to pull himself back to a standing position. “You’re new.”

“Yes, but you’re-“

“- _Pregnant_?” Claude grinned before leading the way down a hall of empty dorm rooms. “You can place your current clothes in this bag. You won’t be needing them. We value modesty here. The smocks hide our stomachs. Well, up to a certain point.”

He patted his own unmistakably pregnant belly and chuckled.

Barnaby tried to work out how to ask the question. “How, erm, when are you… when are you going to-“

“Three more weeks to go,” Claude sighed, using the top of his stomach as a resting place for Barnaby’s clothes and shoes. “But I can tell that things are already starting to happen. See how I’m having to hold the top of this pile?” He patted the top shelf-like part of his belly. “I used to just be able to let things balance here like a table – it stuck straight out. But now everything slides off unless I hold it in place.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve dropped.”

Barnaby felt himself gulp.  _Dropped_. It sounded gross. No, worse than gross. It sounded ominous. He didn’t ask what dropped meant. Instead, he chose to follow Claude the rest of the way in silence. Barnaby’s room was up a flight of stairs and down the very end of a long hall, this alongside Claude’s slow, lumbering waddle made the journey excruciatingly long.

“You’ll be staying here.” Claude said, placing Barnaby’s new belongings on a stripped bed. “Gabriel’s your dorm mate. He arrived last week. Lessons end in about twenty minutes, you can meet him then.”

“Cool.”  Barnaby said, uselessly. “Thanks.”

Claude pushed both on his hand onto the small of his back and stretched it out. He looked severely uncomfortable. Barnaby wondered how long it would be before he felt like that.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Claude said. “I’m in room six, it’s on the first floor.”

He awkwardly lumbered back out of the room and disappeared from sight.

Barnaby sat on the mattress. He emptied out the ziplock and looked at the clothes he had been assigned: two tent-like billowing smocks, brown linen pants with a bizarrely high, stretchy legging-like waistline, a white tennis shirt and matching shorts which Barany took to be gym clothes, a pair of too-white tennis shoes,  and a pair of button up sky blue pajamas. There was also a pair of ugly brown slip-on moccasin shoes. He took off his own beat up converse and put them in the plastic bag. His plaid shirt followed and his too-large Star Wars t-shirt after that. Most of his clothes were too loose on him, but it was the only way he could ensure that they would be long enough for his tall frame. There were no mirrors anywhere in the room so he tried to use the reflection from his room’s glass window to get a good look at his body. It looked the same as it always had; long and lanky. No lumps or bumps indicated that there was anything different about him. He struggled to imagine what he would look like when he started to grow. He threw the flowy smock on. He could shove a basketball under there and no one would be any the wiser. On a normal-sized person he imagined the smock would reach down past their ass, but on Barnaby, it only just successfully covered his entire midriff. He shimmied his baggy jeans off and pulled on the pant-legging hybrid. They were supremely comfortable, as were the piss-ugly shoes. He folded the rest of his real clothes, along with his cellphone, into the plastic bag and sealed it shut.

He wasn’t Barney Dale anymore. He was Jesus’ missing sheep or whatever Chaplain WIllet was talking about.

Just as he was about to put on his bedsheets, the door burst open and in stormed (Barnaby could only assume) his roommate Gabriel, pulling his own smock up over his head and throwing it on the floor, not even stopping as he made a determined beeline to the window.

Barnaby wasn’t certain that the other boy even saw him. “H-hello there, you must be Gabriel. I’m Barnaby.”

“Great,” Gabriel muttered swinging one leg out of the window and reaching out to the tree directly outside their room. He slouched into the window frame and pulled a cigarette out of a packet that must have been stashed on a branch somewhere. “Do me a favor and make sure no one comes down this far will you? They like to check in on the new ones.”

He ran a match against the wall outside, lit the cigarette and inhaled as if it was giving him life itself. The smoke blew out of his mouth as he let out a sigh of relief.

Barnaby cleared his throat. “Should you really be smoking?”

“You got a problem with it?”

“Well isn’t it bad for your baby?”  
  
Gabriel rolled his eyes, still staring out of the window. “What baby?”

As much as Barnaby could have continued having a conversation consisting of only questions, he decided to pause and revaluate the situation. Maybe this shirtless smoker dangling out of a window wasn’t his roommate Gabriel at all. But if not, then who was he? Barnaby looked at the boy properly; tanned, short blond hair, shorter than Barnaby and more sinewy to Barnaby’s gangly. He didn’t look pregnant, but then again neither did Barnaby and yet there he was dressed like a body-conscious pirate at a slumber party.

“You’re staring.”

He was finally looking at Barnaby now, an unimpressed expression across his face as he crookedly blew more smoke out of the outdoorsier side of his mouth. 

“What? Oh.”  Barnaby turned away. “Sorry, I-“

“What did you say your name was?” The boy asked.

“Barnaby. Barnaby Dale.”

“I’m Gabriel.” He tapped ash onto the ground and took another long, desperate draw. “How far along you?”

“I don’t know if that’s-“

Gabriel glared. “Look. Barnaby. You’re about to get asked this dozens of times when you get to know people here. It’s like an icebreaker, don’t be weird about it. How far along are you?”

Barnaby stared down at his lap. “Nine weeks.”

Gabriel laughed. Smoke puffed out of his nostrils. “You must’ve really fucked up to get caught that quickly.”

“My parents found the tests I did.”

“Shit.”

“So, erm…” Barnaby started to say, staring at this boy who didn’t have an ounce of fat on him “how far along are-“

Gabriel wasn’t listening to him. Leaning further out, he rapped on the glass of the window next door. Barnaby could hear it open.

 _“I can’t believe you still haven’t quit”_ said a low voice.

“I ain’t no quitter. They gave me a roommate.”

“He’s there now?” The neighboring window slammed shut and seconds later two other boys entered the room, both dressed in the same smock that Gabriel had thrown off. The two couldn’t have been more of a mismatch: a tiny, bespectacled black kid and a giant, jacked Latino with a buzzcut. They both looked pleased to see a new face though.

“You must be the newest member of the birthing industrial complex,” the tiny one said. “I’m Vincent.”

He offered his hand for Barnaby to shake. He stood up from the bed and returned in kind. “Barnaby.”

“Edmund,” the large one grabbed Barnaby’s hand and pulled him in for a bearhug. The hug revealed a growing bump that the smock did a good job of concealing. “It’s good to have another giant here.”

“Aw, Edmund,” Gabriel sighed from his windowsill. “Where’s  _my_  hug?”

“I’m not going near you until you put that thing out,” Edmund said, pointing to Gabriel’s shrinking cigarette.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I’m down to my last pack, you’d better believe I’m savoring them.”

Vincent smirked, leaning over to both Barnaby and Edmund. “Which habit do you think he’s going to lose first? His smoking or his clothing allergy?”

“I can  _hear_  you!”

“I  _want_  you to.” Vincent laughed. “I think he’ll start wearing clothes again the second his six pack begins to disappear.”

“No way, man,” Gabriel said, his cigarette almost down to the filter. “I’m not losing my tan while I’m here.”

“I give it another two months before you stop prancing around shirtless all the time.”

Gabriel sucked the very last white section of his cigarette away, throwing the filter part out into the woods below him. “Nah, bullshit. You’re way ahead of me and you’re still flat as a pancake."

“Want to bet?” Vincent laughed, shaking his head and lifting up his smock to reveal a small, but still protruding belly. “I’m only sixteen weeks genius. You’ll be where I am by Christmas.”

“How far along are  _you_ , Barnaby?” Edmund asked. This time the question didn’t completely startle him. Gabriel slid off the window giving Barnaby a smirk that screamed: “I told you so.”

“Nine weeks.” Weeks seemed to be the unit of time pregnant people lived on. 

“Ah, so just one week ahead of Gabriel,” Vincent said, slapping Gabriel’s back as the joined the circle.

Barnaby let out a low whistle. “Wow. You must’ve  _really_  fucked up to get caught that quickly.”

Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, the morning sickness gave me away. Plus all the sleeping around I guess… my brother made me piss in a cup.”

“Amateurs! You’re all amateurs!” Edmund said, breaking though any tension. “31 weeks. Homestretch here I come.”

“Stretch marks here you come,” Vincent jibed playfully.

“$40,000 here I come,” Edmund added loudly over Vincent before quietly adding. “ _And you’re a bit too late with the stretchmarks prediction._ You a sophomore like us?”

“Uh, yeah, I just turned sixteen. Happy Birthday to me.” Barnaby laughed hollowly. No one joined in.  

“Hey, at least you arrived on cauliflower pizza day!” Edmund said brightly.

“They don’t give us real pizza,” Gabriel said flatly.

“Well, we can’t sell the one percent MSG babies now can we?” Vincent said to the groans of the other two.

“Vincent’s convinced that this whole thing’s a conspiracy,” Edmund explained.

“Just because something’s a conspiracy doesn’t mean it’s bogus,” Vincent said before turning to Barnaby. “Let me guess… you’re a straight-A student right?”  
  
Barnaby nodded, unsure of where this was going. “Yeah, but-“

“-And you’re good at sports too I bet?”

“Only because I’m tall-“

“-And I bet you never get sick do you? Never had a flu or allergies?”

“A lot of people don’t have allergies,” Edmund said. “Don’t scare him off, he just got here.”

Vincent opened his mouth as if to keep talking, but ultimately decided against it.

“Cauliflower pizza?” Edmund asked.

“Cauliflower pizza,” the others all agreed as they walked out of the dorm room and down the hall, Gabriel pulling his smoke-free smock back on as they went.

 

The cafeteria was down on the first floor. Again, everything was made of mismatched wood. Half a dozen picnic tables lined the room; some of them already occupied with smock-laden teenaged boys eating and animatedly talking to one another, but most still empty so soon after class.

“I’m starving,” Edmund sighed, making a beeline for the serving counter where two boys in chef aprons that accentuated their large bumps delivered everyone their meals. “I haven’t eaten in, like, two whole hours.”

“The good news is, they like to feed us here,” Gabriel whispered into Barnaby’s ear. “The bad news is they only feed us healthy shit.”

Barnaby groaned. He could really do some damage to a box of mac and cheese right about now. He joined Edmund and Vincent at the serving counter.

“How many?” One of the aproned boys asked.

“Uh…” Barnaby looked over at Vincent and Edmund’s full plates to get an idea. Vincent, just over five feet tall, has two slices on his plate. Edmund, as tall as Barnaby but twice as broad and three times as pregnant, had at least eight stacked high.

“I’ll take three, I guess?”

“Here you go, and two balls of four-to-five rice?”

“Two balls of  _what_?”

“Enjoy!”

Barnaby nodded before following Edmund and Vincent over to their own bench in the back corner of the cafeteria. Edmund carefully put his tray on the table before slowly sinking into a sitting position, letting out an old-man sigh as he got off his feet. He and Vincent both happy tucked in to their floppy, made-of-vegetables “pizza.” It was topped with peppers and broccoli.  _Broccoli._  On a  _pizza_.

“Looks delicious, right?” Gabriel had filled his own plate and was scootting next to Barnaby on the bench. He picked up one of his two slices and pretended to enjoy every bite despite his grimace. “Tastes just like a Dominos. I don’t know if I’ll even have room for my four-to-five rice.”

“What the hell is four-to-five rice?” Barnaby asked, pointing at the two ping-pong-sized balls of brown rice on the side of his plate.

“That stuff right there,” Gabriel pointed to Barnaby’s plate unhelpfully.

“I get that that’s the rice, but why do they call it four-to-five rice?”

“It’s  _fortified_ rice,” Vincent explained. “It’s got all the vitamins and nutrients a growing boy could ever need.”

“It’s pretty much the only thing we get that isn’t a vegetable.”

“Oh,” Barnaby scooped one of the balls onto his fork, carefully chewed on it for a while before deciding it was safe to swallow. “But why do they call it four-to-five rice?”

“Because it’s four-to-five hundred calories a spoonful.”

“What the- did I just swallow, like,  _five hundred calories_  in one go!?”

“Relax,” Edmund shrugged. “They just want you to make weight.”

“Without having any sugar.”

“Or trans-fats.”

“Or sodium”

“Or joy.”

“That’s really fucked up,” Barnaby said, suddenly feeling the lump of rice traveling down his throat. He left the second ball on his place uneaten.

“Mind if we join you?”

Two more boys were standing at the table, trays in hand. Gabriel and Vincent shuffled over to give them both room to sit down.

Edmund gestured to the two boys with his knife. “Meet the rest of the gang; this is Johan and Henry, guys this is Barnaby.”

“Welcome to our tribe, Barnaby,” Johan said in a slow vocal fry, his hand pressed together like he was praying. He gave a small bow as if he were about to start teaching Barnaby karate or something. His earlobes were hollow and drooping; they had taken away his ear stretchers but obviously couldn’t do anything about the giant holes left behind. It was hypnotic to watch them dangle freely from the side of his face. Apparently, the uniform rules didn’t extend to haircuts, though, because otherwise there was no way he’d still be allowed to have his sandy-colored whiteboy dreads, tied back behind his mesmerizingly floppy ears.

“It’s great to have you here,” the other boy, Henry, said, taking Barnaby’s hand and shaking it. The boy was a living dress code; a cherubic, permanently happy face, black hair in an immaculate side part, even his smock somehow looked pressed and crisp. “I’m Henry Jeung, I’m the sophomore representative. If you have any questions or concerns, any at all, I’m the guy you see. How far along are you?”

The question didn’t even phase him anymore. Less than two hours in and he had already normalized such a weird thing to ask someone. “Nine weeks.”

“Cool beans!” Henry beamed. “I’m nineteen and Johan’s twenty – we’re practically twins!”

“It’s like a perfect alignment that allowed us to have this, like, shared experience together. It’s really beautiful, man.” Johan said dreamily.

Edmund flicked his orange juice at the pair. “Yeah, the planets wanted you to share this experience or whatever, but the matrons had to put you in separate rooms, you fucking pervs.”

“Companionship isn’t a crime, Edmund.” Henry said defensively.

“ _Our_  kind of companionship is,” Vincent replied looking around at all the boys around them. “That’s a warning to you Barnaby, don’t hook up with anyone while you’re here. They’ll give you a warning and separate you if you’re rooming, but if you get caught again, you’re out of here: no matrons, no money, no adoption – out on your ass.”

“And you don’t want to be out on your, uh, heinie,” Henry said carefully. “The doctors on the outside don’t know how to deliver in our circumstances. We wouldn’t make it out  _alive_.”

Henry punctuated this fairly horrific statement by shoving his mouth full of one of his own scoops of four-to-five rice. “Fo ip’f juft beft t'hoo follow the rulvs.”

Vincent raised his eyebrows at Henry, “you say that like it’s going to be easy.”

Henry swallowed. “Why wouldn’t it be easy?”

Vincent peered over his glasses, his eyes darting to Gabriel. “Well for starters, have you  _seen_  who he’s rooming with?”

 

* * *

“So, what part of the state are you from?”

Barnaby was lying on his finally made-up bed. Someone had been in the room while they were eating and taken away his belongings. He was feeling a little bit naked without his phone. Gabriel was a little bit naked too, meaning that he was sitting shirtless on the windowsill again. He turned his head away from the window at Barnaby’s question.

“Do you know where Hawk Springs is?”

Barnaby raised his head off the pillow a little. “No way, I’m in Chugwater! Hawk Springs is only about 30 miles west from there, it’s probably the neighboring town!”

“Probably. Only in Wyoming.”

“Yeah,” Barnaby added, trying to keep some sort of conversation going. “So, uh… what do your parents do?”

“Meth mostly,” Gabriel answered nonchalantly. “I stay with my brother, we run an auto shop.”

“Cool. The shop, I mean – not the meth, I wouldn’t-”

“- I got it,” Gabriel said, stopping Barnaby from retching up any more word vomit. “Being here was the first time I’ve ever seen people freak out over a couple of  _cigarettes_.”

Barnaby was tempted to explain that it was probably the being pregnant that caused people to worry about the cigarettes more than anything else, but he resisted. He forced himself to shut up and let the room sit in silence for a while.

After what seemed like an eternity, Gabriel spoke up again. “What about you?”

“Hm?” It had been so long since anyone had spoken that Barnaby wasn’t sure what the question was.

“What do your parents do?”

“Oh,” Barnaby rolled onto his stomach to face the window and Gabriel sitting on it. It was dark now, but Gabriel was still in his lazy sunbathing position. “My dad’s a bus driver. The I-25. My mom does pet portraiture.”

Gabriel swung both his legs around to that he was facing Barnaby. “Wait, what?”

“She does paintings of peoples cats and dogs and stuff,” Barnaby explained. “People email her pictures and she does portraits.”

“And people pay for that?” Gabriel asked incredulously.

“Yeah, lots of people.”

Gabriel sighed, sliding off the window ledge and retreating to his own bed. “Well, that’s just weird.”

Barnaby rolled back onto his back, pulling the covers over himself to get ready for sleep. “We’re in a woodland retreat for pregnant boys, Gabriel. I don’t think we get to call out other stuff as weird anymore.”

Gabriel didn’t respond, the only sound he made was the slow, rhythmic breathing of someone fast asleep. Barnaby shut his eyes, trying to follow suit, but he still hadn’t processed his new reality and his mind was racing too fast. He was trapped in a cabin in Bighorn Forest and the only way out was to endure something his body was never, ever supposed to. He would meet with the cabin matrons during his first full day. What would they tell him? Was it going to hurt? Was it going to be worth giving a $40,000 baby over to some rich couple wanting a family of their own? Why him? Why now?

Gabriel turned in his sleep. Barnaby chanced turning his bedside lamp on. Gabriel didn’t even stir.

Barnaby reached out for the spiral notebook he assumed was for classes and began to write:

 

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_My first day here has been fine. I’ve settled in well and made lots of new friends._

_My roommate is a boy called Gabriel. He’s my age and helps his brother run an auto shop as a mechanic. They have their shop just a few miles away from us in Hawk Springs, so if we ever have car trouble, I know a guy! I’ve also made friends with the boys who room next door. They’re called Edmund and Vincent. Edmund is the quarterback on his school’s football team and has a bunch of provisional scholarship offers as long as he keeps up his record in his senior year. He’ll be back and finishing his sophomore year by the end of January. Just remember to keep an eye out for Edmund Mendoza during the NFL draft in a few years’ time. Vincent is an actual genius, He’s does mathletes and scholastic decathlon and he won the national spelling bee the year I got to the state finals. He wants to be on Battle Bots when he gets home._

_I have five classes a day plus an hour of gym. The food is really healthy and I can’t wait to have a big bowl of mac and cheese when I get home. I miss you all already._

_Barney_

 

His eyes finally began to feel heavy. He tore the first page out and started writing on a blank sheet.

_Oscar,_

_How’s school. Tell me everything. Did Theo tell anyone why I’m gone? Does everyone know? They better not be giving you shit (tell me if they are. I’ll sit on them.)_

_I was planning on cool things we can do with the 40 grand. Some of it will go to college I guess, but I still think we could use 10k to have some fun. I was thinking about the following:_  
  
\- Universal Studios (Butterbeer! Rollercoasters!)  
\- Break into the sneakerhead business (hoard some Jordans, sell them for triple their value, live like kings.)  
\- Convert it to singles and make it rain

_\- Something something bitcoin (I don’t have internet so you’ll need to do the research bro)_

_\- How much is a Lambo. We can maybe get a tenth of a Lambo._

_I’ll be home before you know it,_

_Keep me in the loop,_

_Barney_

 

He tried to imagine Oscar reading the letter. He smiled. His head started to feel heavy on his neck and he dropped the notebook onto the floor, allowing himself to sink into the pillow as sleep washed over him.

It was going to be a long seven months, but he was certain that they would at least be interesting. 

 


	2. Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnaby makes himself super popular at his new school...

Barnaby was jolted awake by what sounded like a wounded buffalo.

_Buuuuuuuurrghhhh_

He had forgotten where he was for a moment and the noise only disoriented him further. It seemed to be coming from the wall by the foot of his bed, which was the landing. There couldn’t conceivably be a bison on the landing, it was probably just Oscar goofing around-

_Gouuuuuuaaaaaaaaaauuurrrhh_

He blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings and make sense of what he was hearing. He wasn’t in his own bed. We was wearing pajamas, he hadn’t worn real pajamas since his was nine. The walls were wooden panels painted beige and then he remembered.

Oh yeah, the whole pregnant thing.

But that didn’t really explain the noise. Barnaby was guessing it was coming from his roommate Gabriel. The shallow echo told him that is was probably a bathroom of some sort and the pleasant heaving-buffalo-splashing-coughing combo was telling him that Gabriel may have been puking his guts out. How nice.

Barnaby swung out of bed and gingerly pressed his head against the bathroom door. “Gabriel?”

“Urh, just a sec- _BAAARRUUHHHGHGH_ ….” There was a long pause. “Okay, I think that was it.”

The toilet was flushed and after a minute of rustling and running water, Gabriel emerged, gray-faced but fully dressed.

“Bathroom’s free,” he grumbled as he headed for the hallway. “See you at breakfast.”

“You still want breakfast after that?” Barnaby asked in disbelief, but Gabriel had already started to disappear down the corridor.

Barnaby cautiously opened the bathroom door, but there was no evidence of an exorcism that had just taken place. As well as the expected toilet and sink, there was also just a stretch of floor with a showerhead sticking out of the wall. Not really a shower cubicle, more of a wet room. There was a fold-up shower seat attached to the wall under the showerhead like old people had, which was kind of weird, but Barnaby definitely tried it out while he took his shower. It was actually kind of pleasant; he was so tall that he often had to slouch down to get his head under the stream of water.

As he dried off and tied a towel around his waist, he noticed another ziplock back on the sink labeled “B. Dale 0081”

He didn’t understand what the number meant, but inside the bag was a toothbrush, a washcloth and a comb. The comb would be useless, but he grabbed the toothbrush and the readily-available toothpaste and continued to get ready.

As he left the bathroom he jumped at the sight of a woman sitting on his bed.

“Barnaby Dale?” she asked curtly. She was older than mom with gray hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a white apron atop a grey dress. She looked like she had teleported into the cabin from the nineteen-tens (which was a bit rich coming from Barnaby, whose own uniform was like something from The Princess Bride.)

“Uh, yeah that’s me,” he awkwardly replied, extremely aware that he was wearing nothing but a towel.

“I’m Matron Pell, I’ll be your nurse during your stay here.” Pell stood up. She was a tiny, bony, stern-faced woman. “Please make your bed, put some clothes on and meet me in the hallway where I’ll take you to you first check up. Quickly now.”

She said it like Barnaby was somehow in the wrong for still being in a towel when he had _literally just gotten out of the shower._

“Yeah, sure-sure,” he muttered as Pell exited the room and closed the door behind her. “Be as fast as I can.”

His hair was still damp by the time he had changed and reunited with Pell in the hallway.

“Ready? Follow me.”

She was a surprisingly brisk walker for someone so little. She led him back down to the first floor, past the cafeteria and down a hallway deeper into the building than Barnaby had gone so far.

“Through here, please.” Pell pushed open a set of double swing doors and into seemingly the only room in the building that wasn’t covered in wood. Everything in here was chrome and plastic and so white it made Barnaby’s eyes hurt. The room was large and brightly lit, but most of the space was out of sight and sectioned off by large partitions.

Pell washed her hands at a free standing sink, covered her fabric apron with a plastic one and whipped a pair of rubber gloves out of what looked to be a Kleenex box but for medical supplies.

“Please take a seat Mr. Dale,” she said sternly as she pulled the gloves and grabbed a clipboard. “First I need to ask you a few questions. Full name?”

“Barnaby Abraham Dale.”

“Date of Birth?”

“September 19th 2002. Just turned sixteen.”

 “And how far along to you think you are?”

 “Nine weeks.”

 “And what makes you say that?”

 “It’s what the digital test said?”

 Pell put down the clip board. “Alright, we’ll do some tests to confirm that. But first we’ll do your height and weight-”

 “Six-four, a hundred and fifty pounds,” Barnaby answered reflexively. Pell tutted and gestured Barnaby over to a scale.

 As he stood on the scale, Pell reached up and pulled down a plastic gauge until it reached the top of his head. It read 6’4”, the scale read 150lbs.

 “See? Told you.”

 With that remark, Barnaby could tell that he had made a powerful enemy.

 “Back to the chair,” Pell said sharply. “I’ll check your blood pressure, or should we just skip the tests and you can just tell me all the answers?”

 Barnaby didn’t dare make a sound for the rest of the physical, even when Pell was taking his blood and pee.

 “So, Mr. Dale…” Pell read through her charts and results. “You’re largely in good health, no medical conditions, no allergies. It looks like your due date will be June 28th next summer.”

 Barnaby gulped. It seemed so far away. He’d be away from his school, his friends, his family and trapped in a creepy cabin with no Wi-Fi.

 “Here is your checkup schedule and your diet plan for the next four weeks,” Pell handed Barnaby two cards. “And your class timetable and chore rota.” Two larger sheets of paper. “There’s a map on the back of your timetable.”

 Barnaby flipped the timetable around. There were three hammer-shaped diagrams with labels indicating the rooms on the first and second floor and some parts of the basement, although some of the basement was grayed out. When he looked back at the front of the timetable, it indicated that he was supposed to be in gym class.

 “Your roommate is Gabriel Rivers. He will be your partner while you’re here, he can help you with any queries you might have.”

 Barnaby nodded, still not wanting to take the risk of opening his big mouth.

 “You’re free to go, Mr. Dale.” Pell said.

 Barnaby obediently got up and retraced his footsteps back to his room to change into his gym clothes.

 The gymnasium itself wasn’t very large, the whole thing was about the size of a basketball court, but then again there weren’t many boys and they probably weren’t allowed to do anything too strenuous anyway. The fifteen or so sophomore boys were sat on yoga mats, some with exercise balls, some trying various poses and some just sitting on their mats talking to one another. A young matron stood facing everyone, trying (and seemingly failing) to get the class do follow a specific routine. She waved Barnaby over to the front as soon as she spotted him.

 “You must be our new boy!” she said in a high, soft voice. “I’m Matron Hanlon, I’ll be your gym teacher!” She turned Barnaby around to face the rest of the boys. “Boys! Boys!” she called out. “This is Barnaby Dale, he just arrived yesterday. I trust you’ll make him feel very welcome.”

 No one seemed to have much of a reaction to him.

 “Wonderful!” Matron Hanlon cheered. “Okay, Barnaby, you go grab a mat and follow along.”

 Gabriel, Edmund and Vincent, huddled together in a group in the corner, gestured for Barnaby to join into their cluster.

 “Have you seen Gregory this morning?” Gabriel gestured to a hugely pregnant, uncomfortable looking boy who didn’t seem able to do much more than sit on the exercise ball and bounce occasionally. “I don’t think he’s going to make it through gym class.”

 “God, you’re probably right,” Vincent said. “He didn’t look that big at breakfast.”

 “He was wearing a _tent_ at breakfast,” Edmund laughed.

 The gym clothes weren’t “modest” like the other uniform was and it finally made Barnaby realize that, yes, every boy here was pregnant – some of them very, very pregnant.  Barnaby found himself subconsciously sizing everyone else up. He, Gabriel and one goth-looking boy (“Malcom. He’s cool. Weird, but cool” Edmund later explained) still looked normal, but everyone else was fairly easy to gage. Vincent seemed to be next along with only a slightly rounded out stomach like he had eaten a few large meals, next was Johan and Henry who looked pretty much the same size and were assisting one another with the downward dog in a way that let Barnaby know on no uncertain terms why they had to be split into separate rooms.

 “So,” Barnaby began to ask, “are Johan and Henry still…”

 “They’ve been on their best behavior since Matron Engel caught them playing tonsil hockey a few weeks ago,” Vincent answered. “But recently they’ve been pushing the line a little.”

 “Well, that’s pretty stupid of them,” Gabriel said.

 Edmund gave Gabriel a careful look. “Says the guy hiding cigarettes in a tree.”

 Gabriel shrugged and went back to his half-hearted stretching. “Point taken.”

 One boy was impossible to tell, as he had shown up to gym class in his billowy smock uniform and moved his mat as far away from the others as he could get it. He red hair looked limp and greasy plastered against either side of his face and he scowled when he caught Barnaby in a stare. Barnaby turned away sheepishly.

 “Be grateful he’s so far away,” Vincent whispered to Barnaby. “Samuel’s got some… hygiene issues.”

 “He doesn’t ever change out of the smocks,” Edmund added. “Johan got moved into a room with him and apparently he hardly ever showers.”

 “Urgh, why?”

 “Oh, he’s in _complete_ denial about being here,” Edmund said, his voice an excited whisper at getting to share the gossip. “He wants to think he isn’t pregnant, so talking to sinners like us, seeing himself naked, wearing form fitting clothing… it breaks the denial. It’s actually really kind of sad.”

 “I think he’s super religious,” Vincent said. “He definitely won’t accept that he’s gay.”

 Edmund leaned in closer to Barnaby and Vincent. “I tried to give him a hug when he arrived and he pushed me away saying _don’t touch me you faggot_. Like he actually called me that.”

 Barnaby dared another quick glance over to Samuel, who was glaring at all of them. It must have been obvious that they were talking about him.

 Edmund cleared his throat. “So Barnaby, how did your checkup go? Who did you get as a nurse?”

 “Uh, Pell?”

 Everybody flinched. Barnaby felt his stomach sink. “Is it that bad?”

 “I mean,” Vincent began to say, choosing his words carefully, “she’s a hardass.”

 “She scares me.” Edmund admitted even though he was easily three or four times Pell’s size.

 “Yeah,” Barnaby groaned. “She yelled at me because I knew my own height. Then she gave me a list of chores.”

 “Oh, everyone gets the chore list,” Edmund insisted.

 “But you won’t have any to do on your first week,” Vincent added.

 “They’re nice like that,” Gabriel deadpanned.

 “Gabriel got farming this week,” Vincent said, suppressing a laugh.

 “They only use _natural_ fertilizer for the crops,” Gabriel muttered. “My first week of chores and they give me shit shoveling.”

 Edmund put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, once you get as fat as me, they don’t get you to do manual labor anymore.” He laughed and patted his round belly, now much more obvious in his gym clothes. “Because manual labor can put you into actual labor.”

 “ _Aaaarrrrghh_!”

 The scream made Barnaby jump. Every head on the hall turned to the sound on the direction. Gregory, the most heavily pregnant boy in the class, scrunched over on his exercise ball, both hands grabbing onto his stomach, wincing in pain.

 Matron Hanlon sprinted over to Gregory, she wrapped one arm around his shoulder and used her free hand to rub the base of his spine. He let at a series of deep, loud moans. He sounded even more like a wounded buffalo than Gabriel had in the bathroom.

 “Alright everyone, class dismissed,” she said, her voice even higher than normal. “Who is Gregory’s partner? Dimitri?”

 She looked over to the boy standing helplessly next to them. He looked to be the second biggest sophomore after Gregory. He nodded. “Yeah, I’m his partner.”

 “Help me take him along to the ward, would you sweetheart?” Hanlon said, Dimitri looked like there was nothing he’d rather do less. He had become very pale. Gregory bellowed again.

 “Quickly now,” the Matron urged as Dimitri reluctantly heaved Gregory off the exercise ball and out of the gymnasium, Hanlon following behind them.

 Everyone silently started at the door, not knowing what to do. It was a long while before anyone even moved.

 Gabriel was the first to roll up his yoga mat and head for the door. Barnaby took it as a sign to follow.

 “So what happens now?” Barnaby asked, his voice betraying his anxiety.

 “Gregory has the kid and goes home 40k richer,” Gabriel answered.

 “Well yeah, but…” Barnaby struggled to come up with a coherent question. “But what actually happens? Where do they go? How is the baby born?”

 Gabriel looked at him, his face serious for once. “No one knows. We’ll never see Gregory again.”

 “But his partner guy – Dimitri, he’ll still be here,” Barnaby urged.

 Gabriel stopped walking, how voice becoming low and quiet. “The partners never want to talk about it.”

 “Seriously?”

 “They always try to partner up boys due around the same time,” Gabriel was almost too hushed to hear. “So they’re never here long enough to pry it out of them.”

 “But why won’t they just say?” Barnaby wondered aloud. “Why don’t they want to talk about it?”

 Gabriel leaned in close to Barnaby’s ear, making sure his next words couldn’t be missed.

 “Because what happens in that delivery room is too traumatic to talk about.”

 

* * *

“Mail room?”

Barnaby’s first week has gone without further incident. Gabriel’s buffalo sounds served as his morning alarm, he had settled into his lessons, and he was starting to acquire a taste for four-to-five rice. Gregory never returned to class, Dimitri didn’t want to talk about it. Nobody wanted to push him for details.

The only other piece of excitement in his life was getting his weekly chore rota filled out for the first time. Pell had filled it in with “mail room.”

“Yeah,” Vincent explained to him at breakfast, “You take everyone’s letters, address and stamp them for delivery and then help vet the letters that come in from families and deliver them to everyone’s room.”

Barnaby felt restless at the mere thought of sitting with piles of envelopes. “How many letters are we talking?”

Vincent stopped chewing. “Well, you’ve been here just over a week, how many letters have you written?”

“Four.”

“And you’ll expect four back?”

“I guess?”

“So just multiply that by how many boys are here-“

“-Forty-five-“ Henry chimed in.

“So your job that week is sorting, like… three hundred and fifty letters.” Vincent shook his head. “It’s soul destroying, but it’s not cleaning duty or laundry duty.”

“Or farming duty,” Gabriel added, his face screwed up in disgust.

Barnaby groaned. “That all sounds better than mail room.”

“I don’t know,” Edmund said. “I have kitchen duty this week. Making everyone’s meals standing up for hours, staring at food you can’t eat until everyone is served. It’s like torture.”

“Do you want to trade?” Barnaby asked, jumping up. “Seriously, I’ll trade, I don’t mind cooking – I aced home-ec.”

Edmund rubbed the back of his neck “They don’t really like people trading chores…”

Barnaby wasn’t willing to give up just yet. “How will they know? And as long as the jobs get done, who cares?”

Edmund didn’t say anything, but his expression seemed to soften slightly.

“You’ll get to do a chore sitting down,” Barnaby pressed on. “And when it’s time for dinner, you don’t have to wait, doesn’t that sound way better?”

Edmund let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I’ll trade you.”

“Yes!” Barnaby jabbed his fist into the air. “Thank you, you won’t regret this.”

“I better not, Dale,” Edmund warned as he chewed on his four-to-five rice. “You mess with a man’s food, you make a lifelong foe!”

 

* * *

The only other boy on kitchen duty was a senior who glared at Barnaby when he walked into the kitchen.

“Are you lost?” the senior asked, staring Barnaby up and down.

“Uh, no?” Barnaby said, trying not to show his annoyance. “Pretty sure this is the kitchen.”

“You seem a little… new for kitchen duty,” the senior said, eyeing Barnaby with suspicion. What was his problem? Was there some special kitchen privilege that Barnaby didn’t know about? Did he have to prove his kitchen worth? Were there three magical kitchen trials? He charged over to the apron hanging from a peg on the wall and tied it around himself, ignoring whatever this senior’s problem was with him.

“Do you know how to make the veggie chili?” The senior asked, clearly expecting a no.

 “How hard can it be?” Barnaby shrugged. “Throw it all in the pot, wait a while - done.”

 Senior sighed. “Great. The recipe is on the counter. Do you want to, like, sauté the onions or whatever?”

 “Sure.” Barnaby washed his hands and headed over to the chopping station where several crates of freshly picked vegetables were waiting. He picked up a handful of onions and his eyes reflexively began to well up even before he had made the first slice. He chopped quickly and roughly, reasoning that they would dissolve in the pot eventually anyway, and dropped them into the skillet. Barnaby glanced at the recipe:

_Add minced garlic to the skillet_

Barnaby rummaged in the crates for the garlic bulbs and began to peel them. He could already smell the garlic seeping into the skin on his fingers and felt himself gag slightly. A horrible sinking feeling kicked in when he started to figure out why first trimester boys were kept away from the kitchens.

He swallowed the feeling down, he hadn’t thrown up in weeks and he certainly wasn’t going to start again now. He wasn’t Gabriel, he could control his nausea. He wasn’t going to buffalo right there in the kitchen.

He kept his face as far away from the chopping board as he hastily diced the garlic and threw it in the skillet with the onions.

Instantly, the garlic burned in his nostrils, seeping slowly to the back of his mouth and creeping down his throat. It seemed to stain the entirety of his mouth. His stomach lurched.

“Ohh…” he groaned. “Oh no…”

Before he even had time to react, he opened his mouth and spewed all over the counter top.

“Jesus Christ, dude!” Senior shouted, running out of the kitchen with a fistful of carrots still in his hands.

Barnaby shut his eyes, knowing the sight of what just escaped his body would probably make him puke again. He could feel round two begin to build in his gut and he ran over to the sink just in time, joining the wounded buffalo gang with the horrific noises he was making. He held on to the rim of the sink, slowly trying to regain control of his body. He could feel sweat build up on his scalp, running down his face and neck. A loud ringing began to blare in his ears.

A loud, rapid ringing. Like a fire alarm.

“Uh-oh.”

He turned around to see a thick cloud of black smoke coming from the skillet. He ran over to turn it off, grabbing the blackened onions and running them under the sink, making the whole think sizzle and smoke even more. He was lucky nothing was actually on fire.

“Barnaby!”

Barnaby turned around to see a boy, slowly charge into the kitchen, fire extinguisher in hand. It was the senior boy who had first shown him to his room.

“Claude?”

“Move out of the way!”

Barnaby jumped out of the stream of foam erupting from the extinguisher and into the smoking sink. There were no fires to put out, but it seemed to drastically stop the smoking.

Claude threw down the extinguisher and leaned against the wall to take some of the weight off his feet. “Who on earth gave you kitchen duty? They never give first trimester’s kitchen duty because the food smell tends to… well…” he gestured to the trashed kitchen.

“I traded-“ Barnaby began to say, “Wait. How did you know I was here?”

“My roommate came running down the hall with carrots in his hands saying that someone was blowing chunks in the kitchen. You can see the smoke from down the hallway!”

“Oh,” Barnaby groaned. “Thanks for helping.”

“No problem,” a smile spread over Claude’s red ruddy face. He was actually kind of cute. Barnaby felt himself look away, suddenly embarrassed. “How much trouble do you think I’m, going to get into.”

The answer was a lot of trouble.

“Two weeks detention,” Pell screamed at him, “extra chores, and a report on the importance of following instructions!”

“Yes, Matron,” Barnaby replied as he scrubbed the countertops clean. He felt like cleaning up his own puke was punishment enough. Claude had been nice enough to offer to help, but Pell wouldn’t let him, he gave Barnaby a sympathetic look as he escaped the situation.

“You could have set the whole building on fire. You’re fortunate I don’t get the Chaplain involved! He would probably reduce your fee to cover the damage you’ve done.”

“What?” Barnaby stopped scrubbing. They would really take his money away?

Pell narrowed her eyes. “Two weeks detention. Extra chores. A report on the importance of following instructions. Consider yourself very lucky, Mr. Dale.”

He nodded, feeling completely lousy, and continued to scrub the kitchen clean. “What about dinner?”

Pell folder her arms. “You’re just going to have to explain to everyone why dinner is going to be a selection of raw vegetables.”

Barnaby suspected that this would be the worst punishment of them all, and he was right. “I tried to get out of mailroom, heaved all over the kitchen and ruined your dinner. Enjoy your salad” did not garner a warm response from the hungry pregnant teenage boys who had started to arrive to the cafeteria.

“Listen,” Gabriel said as he look his own pitiful bowl of salad, “I may have – as a joke – called you Barnabarf and it may have caught on and now everyone’s calling you that. Maybe.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, not everyone is calling you that,” Gabriel reassured him. “Some people are going with Barfaby instead. Barf is the key theme here.”

Barnaby groaned. “Fantastic, I’ve been here a week and now everyone hates me.”

Gabriel smiled at him. “Not everyone. That’s got to be the most rock and roll thing anyone has ever done in this place. Fight the power, Barnabarf!”

Gabriel winked at him, and walked to his table, Barnaby following him with his eyes the whole way down. 

* * *

  _Barney_

_What the fuck dude? A week? A whole week before updating me?! Steal a phone bro, text me! By the time this letter gets back to you it will probably be January or something. So happy New Year I guess!_

_Everyone at school kind of knows. Or at least people have been asking me. I told them you were at a school retreat (which I guess is true?) I think Theo’s tried to talk to me a couple of times, but it’s always been busy and he ends up skittering away._

  _I. Can’t. Believe you didn’t give me the actual dirt on your roommates in your letter to me. I bet_ one tenth _of a Lambo you hook up with one of them (probably Vincent since he sounds like as much of a geek as you) by the time you get home. I mean… what are they gonna do, knock you up?_

_I miss you too. Give my love to your boyfriend Vincent._

_Oscar_

 

_Oscar,_

_I wrote to you on day one, I swear – they just take forever to sort the mail! It was supposed to be my job this week, but I traded with someone on kitchen duty, threw up everywhere, ruined dinner and now everyone hates me. It’s going really well._

_Well, not everyone hates me. Gabriel thinks I’m a badass rebel. At least one person likes me._

_Someone went into labor during my gym class! That was insane. He disappeared after that, I mean I guess he just went home, but nobody who was in the delivery room wants to talk about it. I don’t know why – I would want to tell EVERYONE._

_Also, even if I wanted to hook up with Vincent (WHICH I DON’T) I doubt he’d want to be associated with me now that I’m known as Barnabarf._

_Besides, out of those three, I’d definitely pick Edmund anyway. Come ON bro, it’s like you don’t even know me at all._

_Don’t do anything wouldn’t do,_

_Love Barney_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an exposition chapter. Sorry. 
> 
> So I recently(ish) moved to a North London, which used to be home to St Pelagia's Home for Destitute Girls. Google is if you want to make yourself really sad. This story is kind of a mishmash of those destitute girl's homes of the 50s and 60s and modern-day gay conversion camps for teens. Maybe throw biology out of the window for this one...


	3. Chuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnaby gets body conscious. The boys meet Chuck; the super cool youth pastor teaching them to pray the gay away!

Barnaby had sorted so much mail in detention that he had actually memorised the full names and hometowns of every boy in the cabin. He also managed to work out who were the most spoiled by their parents based on how much contraband he had to turn over to Matron Pell.

“Another bag of Skittles,” he declared as he reluctantly tagged them and threw them in the plastic bin on the floor. He didn’t know where they ended up, but liked to fantasise about a giant wooden room full of candy and comic books that he could dive into like Scrooge McDuck. He added a note to the letter before stuffing it back in the envelope:

CONFISCATED: ONE (1) BAG OF FRUIT-FLAVORED CANDY

He looked into the half-full contraband container. He was somehow around more food here than he was on kitchen duty; and this time we was around food that he actually _liked_. He had been getting to the cafeteria as late is he could at mealtimes to avoid the guys, knowing that they would be pissed at him. By that time the food was usually wasn’t hot anymore. Seeing the mountain of chips and chocolate when he had been eating cold vegetables and congealed weight-gain rice was nothing short of torture. He let out an involuntary groan.

Matron Pell, sitting in the corner reading some sort of medical textbook, threw her head up to attention. “Something wrong, Mr Dale?”  
  
“No problem Matron,” Barnaby said flatly as he grabbed the next envelope off the pile.

Pell closed over her textbook. “It’s almost midnight. It’s probably pointless starting on another pile. Just go back to your room.”  
  
Barnaby didn’t move, wondering if this was some sort of test. “Matron?”  
  
“You boys need to get your rest. Go.”  
  
Barnaby nodded curtly and threw himself out of the chair.

Too tired to change into his pyjamas, he threw his clothes off, Gabriel style, and rolled into bed, flattening the sheets against his body.

His gulped.

It was the strangest thing. He’d been eating nothing but gross health food for two weeks, and recently he couldn’t even finish it because it was stone cold.

And yet…

His stomach definitely wasn’t as flat as it used to be.

 

* * *

It was too soon. It _had_ to be too soon. He wasn’t already starting to show, it was impossible. It had only been eleven weeks!

Barnaby was brushing his teeth, damning the lack of mirror in the bathroom and trying to gauge any obvious changes in his shape by touch alone. There was a definite swell right between his pelvic bones and below his navel. It was solid. Almost like a basketball or something. It felt huge to him, but maybe it was like when there’s a zit on your nose and is feels like a big red golf ball when in reality it’s just a little pimple.

Was the four-to-five rice really that effective? Was his freakish tallness translating into a giant fetus? Was is just the fact the he was so lanky that any tiny lump or bump would be obvious on him?

He knew that this was going to happen eventually. He had some abstract realization of this. But this soon? He thought he had a good six months before his smock would do him no good. He was suddenly very grateful for the ugly uniform, he felt weirdly ashamed of his changing body even when he was in a place where everyone was going through the exact same thing.

Would he get stretch marks? He already had quite a few from growing up, so he probably had a good chance of getting more from growing _out_. He felt a bit sick.

As he lumbered out of the bathroom he looked at Gabriel, his body fit and perfect, tanning his firm abs, lounging like an _asshole_ out of the window. He wasn’t smoking anymore. Maybe he really had been on his last pack. But he was half curling up his fingers, holding his hand up parallel to his face as if he still had a cigarette in his hand. Barnaby swallowed the very last of his pride.

“Gabriel?” he asked hesitantly. “Do I look any big-“

 _“C’mon, c’mon newbies – get a move on!”_  
  
Edmund marched into the room, Vincent jubilantly in tow.

“Why are you so peppy this morning?” Gabriel asked, jumping down from the windowsill. Barnaby quickly grabbed his smock, throwing it over his head before anyone else could see his body.

“It’s the best day of the month, my friends,” Edmund continued, a huge smile on his face. “It’s time for Chuck’s monthy visit!”  
  
Gabriel’s eyebrow’s furrowed in confusion, “monthly visit? Chuck? Huh?”  
  
Barnaby’s eyes widened, “is this, like… a period euphemism?”

Gabriel threw his hands up. “What? No, no way – I did _not_ sign up for periods. Pregnant people don’t get periods!”  
  
“Pregnant _women_ don’t get periods,” Barnaby added, his voice getting high with alarm. “Who knows what- wait, are you _laughing_ at us?”

By this point Edmund and Vincent were in fits of laughter. Vincent was even crying a little.

“Oh my god,” Vincent gasped between gaps of hysteria. “You two are hilarious.”

“Chuck is the youth pastor, geniuses,” Edmund explained. “He comes here to teach us how to be all-American red-blooded hetros.”  
  
“He’s the best,” said Vincent, drying his tear-stained glasses on his smock. “And by that I mean he’s the very worst.”

“So put on a shirt and come down for breakfast,” Edmund said, throwing Gabriel’s smock at him. “We need to get a front row for the shit-show.”

Barnaby retreated towards the wall, “uh, I’m going to hang back a little while-“  
  
“Dale, no one cares about your puking anymore,” said Vincent exasperatedly. “Chuck’s here! Let’s go!”

 

* * *

Much to Edmund’s disappointment, they weren’t early enough to all grab front row seats to Chuck’s lesson. Half of the boys in their grade had already stolen the good seats in Matron Engel’s class, half an hour before the class was even supposed to start. The only person who hadn’t perched himself in one of the front rows was Samuel, who probably could have used the spare thirty minutes to actually wash his hair for a change. He had tucked himself into a corner, thankfully as far away from everyone else as he could get.

Barnaby looked down at his giant, flowy shirt, making sure that it was definitely hiding the sudden protrusion of his stomach. He felt a sudden wash of understanding for Samuel self-consciousness that threw him slightly off-kilter. He was starting to feel dread at putting on his more form-fitting gym clothes in the afternoon and having people stare at him. He made a beeline for the desk nearest to Samuel.

“ _Dale_ ,” Gabriel hissed. “ _Where the hell are you going_?”

But Barnaby ignored him, getting right in front of the corner desk. He cleared his throat. “Uh, Samuel?”  
  
Samuel looked up from the floor, pushing his glasses up his long thin nose.

Barnaby waved awkwardly. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet. I’m Barn-“  
  
“-You’re Barnaby Dale,” Samuel grumbled. “You ruined everyone’s dinner last week.”

Barnaby could feel the heat rise into his cheeks. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that-“  
  
“-Whatever, this place makes me wanna puke too.” Samuel wasn’t even looking at him anymore, becoming more occupied in carving some sort of flame graffiti into his desk. “Now run back to the other queers and get out of my face.”

Barnaby had been called a queer exactly three times in his life. Once back in freshman year when he first came out; a particularly boneheaded senior called Ryan O'Shay seemed to think it would make his friends laugh. He apologized to Barnaby a few days later after the rest of the seniors had shunned him. The second time was by his best friend, Chase, who wasn’t very clear on the difference between calling someone “queer” and calling someone “ _a_ queer.” Chase massively overcompensated for an uncomfortably long time after that. And now in Matron Engel’s classroom by someone who really should have known better. The third time was the one that bothered Barnaby the most.

Barnaby didn’t even humor Samuel with a response before retreating to the other side of the classroom and sinking into a free seat directly in front of Gabriel, who offered a sympathetic shrug.  

The classroom door swung open and in walked Matron Engel, her cardigan draped over her shoulders like a cape, blonde ponytail swinging behind her.

Engel beamed. “Boys; today we are blessed to have a brilliant man in our presence. He came here all the way from Rock Springs, please give a warm welcome to Pastor Charles Wynn!”

She began an applause that the class hesitantly joined along with (apart from Edmund and Vincent, who were both clapping so enthusiastically, Barnaby was certain it was sarcastic.)

Chuck Wynn was younger than Barnaby expected, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He was confusingly handsome, with thick neatly parted hair and dazzlingly white teeth. His clothes looked pristine and expensive. It was bizarre to see somebody in the cabin dressed in jeans and a button down and not like a Gregorian Monk.  He swaggered to the front of the class.

“Please Matron - Pastor Wynn’s my Sunday school name,” he flashed a grin and Matron Engel, who seemed almost smitten by his smile. “You boys can call me Chuck.”

He put his hands in his front pocket and sat against the corner of Engel’s desk.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Matron Engel said, gracefully making her exit from the classroom.

Chuck waited for the door to close before picking up his lesson again. “I see some new faces here today, and am missing a few familiar ones,” he said while his eyes scanned the faces behind the desks. “Who’s gone home?”  
  
“Gregory,” Dimitri said quietly. He still hadn’t shared what he saw in the medical bay and even saying Gregory’s name seemed to make him turn pale.

“Well good for him,” Chuck nodded his head. “He was making some really great progress in our one-to-ones. For those who are joining us for the first time - I’m here to help you lead a normal, happy life when you leave here in a few months, or weeks, or even days – am I right ‘Mitri?”

Dimitri’s face grew even whiter as he nodded in response.

“Once you reach the last few months of your journey here, I’ll make some time to have one-to-one coaching with you, so that you can assimilate back into the world as well adjusted, virile young men.”

Chuck planted his elbow on his knee, resting his chin on his fist.

“Y’know… there’s this High School back in Rock Springs where I help coach the soccer team; the Clydesdales. They win the league every year. And do you know why? Because they work as a team – they do everything together. They change together, train together, study together, they all attend my youth ministry together. And that closeness is important, but for some boys your age, that kind of closeness can be confusing. Imagine if someone took that closeness too far.”

Chuck paused to stare the class down. Barnaby, a real-life gay athlete who regularly changed in the same room as a dozen straight boys, suddenly felt the need to stare intently as his desk. He didn’t even care about what any other the other boys on the team looked like naked. Well, except for Theo, and naked Theo was _exactly_ what got Barnaby into this mess in the first place.

Chuck, who seemed to be reading his mind, continued on. “Maybe one of the boys stares at another in the locker rooms too long, or they want to listen to their life story when they should be studying, or they get doe-eyed during drills. The team would fall apart. That confusion can have dire consequences, and God has made his message clear with all of you that he can not condone your misguided actions.”

Barnaby felt himself fidget in his chair. He didn’t believe in _any_ of this crap. So why was it bothering him so much?

  
“But Chaplain Willet and the wonderful matrons here have given you a second chance,” Chuck declared, looking at each boy one by one. “It doesn’t have to be this way forever. Your current affliction has brought you to this place so you can be _saved_ from a life of sin. It is not a punishment, but a lifeline. It is a sign from God that he does not want you to live this confused and sinful lifestyle anymore.”

Chuck paused. The silence in the room could be carved through with a chainsaw.

  
“Everyone close your eyes,” said Chuck, waving his hand out like he was trying to perform some sort of Jedi mind trick. “I want you to imagine... you are in your school’s soccer team. Or football team, or basketball team or whatever sports teams they have. You have a bond with your team and they trust you because they know that you are normal just like them. You help them win the big game and they lift you up and carry you on their shoulders. They are not too disgusted to touch you because their touch doesn’t illicit any feelings of lust.”

Barnaby screwed his eyes shut tighter. Did the other guys on his team really feel disgust towards him? No, that was nonsense; he’d be able to tell. Surely he’d be able to tell. Definitely able.

But Chuck wasn’t done. “There’s a girl in the bleachers – the prettiest one you’ve ever seen. She shyly smiles at you and only you. You could swear that you were really flying. You and your buddies go to the big post-game party, they’re like brothers to you and you would never do anything to make them uncomfortable. You get a soda. The girl is there. She’s in a pink sundress. She tucks her red hair behind her ear and blushes when you see her. You approach her with confidence. She bites her lip. You never want this moment to end.”  
  
Aaaaand now Chuck had lost him. Barnaby pried open one eye and looked around to see if anyone else found this as bizarre as he did.  Gabriel seemed to be stifling a laugh. Vincent was biting down on a pencil to stop himself from a fit of hysterics. Edmund’s jaw was clenched from trying to not to smile. Barnaby felt himself ease.

“Now open your eyes,” Chuck said as Barany pretended to oblige. “You’re not at the party. You’re here. (“ _Fucking duh_ ” Barnaby heard Gabriel whisper.) Doesn’t that sound like the life?”  
  
Barnaby kind of felt like that was already the life he had, minus the nameless red head part.

Chuck jumped to his feet, rubbing his big hands together. “I need a volunteer… hey – how about you?”  
  
He gestured to someone behind Barnaby’s head, he turned to see Samuel looking absolutely miserable.

“Come up here, son.”  
  
Samuel pushed his desk away from him and slowly dragged himself to the front of the class. Barnaby could hear his heavy, annoyed breathing the entire time.

“What’s your name, young man?”  
  
Samuel uttered his name, barely audible.

“Nice to meet you, Samuel,” Chuck said, looking down at Samuel’s torso, the outline of his belly just visible through his smock. “And it looks like we’ll be having our ones-to-ones soon enough too.”

Samuel crossed his hands over his torso, trying to hide his growing body, but Chuck just laughed putting an arm around Samuel’s shoulder and pulling him closer. “Who would you say is the most popular boy in your school? Who is the guy that every other guy wants to be?”

Samuel glowered, trying to pull away from Chuck’s grip on his shoulder. “Spencer Weiler.”

“Spencer Weiler,” Chuck echoed. “And what makes Spencer so likable?”  
  
Samuel shut his eyes. He seemed to be praying for death. “I dunno. He plays sports.”  
  
“Athletic!” Chuck cheered. “Everyone loves an athlete, very good, very good. What else?”  
  
“He’s a pretty boy, I guess.” Samuel answered through gritted teeth.

“He’s stylish and well groomed,” Chuck said before quickly adding “but not _too_ stylish and well-groomed – there’s a cut off there, boys. Anything more?”

Samuel now seemed to be sinking into the floor. “The girls like him for some reason.”  
  
Chuck slapped Samuel on the back. “Now we’re talking! A hit with the ladies. And I bet the ladies are a big hit with him too, am I right?”  
  
Samuel didn’t answer, he continued to glower.

“Ah, I’m right,” Chuck sighed. “But here’s the thing, Samuel. Spencer makes it look easy. But everything he’s doing takes _effort_. He has to practice his craft; his confidence, his style – but not too much style – even simple things like his mannerisms add to this. Samuel, I want you to do something. I want you to pretend for a second that _you_ are Spencer Weiler. You have everything he has. Everyone likes and respects you. And I want you to shake my hand.”  
  
Samuel’s scowl softened for a second to convey confusion.

“Just try it, trust me!” Chuck insisted, taking a few steps away from Samuel. “Are you ready?”  
  
Samuel sighed, unclenching his fists. “Fine.”  
  
Chuck marched towards him, “Spencer, my man! How’s it going?”  
  
Chuck threw out his hand for Samuel to take. Without hesitation, Samuel took it back, grasping it so tightly it seemed to make Chuck flinch a little bit. Chuck broke the grip, pulling his hand away.

“Heh-heh,” Chuck said emptily as he massaged his squeezed hand. “Good job, Samuel – that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Everyone give it up for Samuel!”  
  
The class broke into a polite applause as Samuel slunk back to his desk looking even more wretched than ever. Barnaby would have even felt sorry for him, if he wasn’t just a jerk.

“And it won’t just work for Samuel. Everyone has a Spencer Weiler. Quick, who’s yours?” Chuck said, pointing at Dimitri.

“Uh… Malik Kingston.”  
  
“You can be Malik Kingston! And you?”  
  
He pointed at Henry, who looked a little startled.

“I would have to say Levi Disraeli, Pastor Chuck.”  
  
“You can be like Levi Disraeli. How about you?” Chuck pointed at Gabriel.

“I don’t go to school,” Gabriel deadpanned.

“Ah, home schooled. That’s okay you’re here for a while, we’ll work on it.” Chuck turned to face Barnaby. “How about you?”  
  
“Me?” Barnaby asked suddenly feeling very on the spot. “No, I’m not home-schooled, I just go to regular-“  
  
Chuck laughed. “No, buddy: who’s the guy at your school who everyone likes? Who plays sports and gets good grades? Who do all the girls like? Who do you most want to be?”  
  
Barnaby looked Chuck dead in the eyes.

“I want to be Barney Dale.”

 

* * *

“Did Reverend Blue Jeans seriously just tell us is self-insert sports star fanfic?”

Barnaby, Edmund, Vincent and Gabriel were walking down the hall, making their way to lunch after their _riveting_ conversion therapy session.

“Yeah…” said Edmund, shaking his head. “That was way too specific to be for our benefit!”

“It’s _always_ a red head, have you noticed that?” Vincent said, a huge smile across his face.  
  
“Well,” Edmund added, solemnly, “you have to have some consistency in the Chuck cinematic universe.”

“Also, why is a red head in a pink dress,” Vincent added. “It will clash!”  
  
Edmund stopped dead on his tracks. “Did… did the straight conversion class just make you gayer?!”

“Well it didn’t make me straight, that’s for sure,” Vincent scoffed. He turned to Barnaby and Gabriel. “How did you enjoy your first cringe fest with old Chuck?”

“Yeah,” Barnaby said. “I _love_ it when people tell me I’m confused and destined for hell.”

Vincent nodded. “I get what you’re saying, Barnaby. But if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry, so… laugh at him.”  
  
“It feels _really_ good,” Edmund added. “I have my first one-to-one this week. It’s going to be the most entertaining things that’s happened to me in months. This is what happens when you haven’t had access to ESPN since May.”  
  
“Life is hard,” Gabriel said. “Uh, Dale?”  
  
He grabbed Barnaby’s arm, pulling him aside and separating him from Edmund and Vincent, still heading towards the cafeteria.

“I didn’t get a chance to answer your question this morning.”  
  
Barnaby stared at him, bewildered. “What question?”

“You were asking if I thought you looked any bigger?”  
  
Barnaby’s face flushed. He felt himself instinctively tug down his smock. “Uh…”  
  
Gabriel smiled at him. “And yeah, you’ve rounded out a little.”  
  
Barnaby gulped. Gabriel put a reassuring arm around him. 

“But don’t worry, Dale” he added. “You still look cute.”


	4. Slash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnaby gets more than he bargained for in detention. 
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VIOLENT DESCRIPTIONS OF CHILDBIRTH.

Barnaby had read the letter over and over again. He wasn’t supposed to be opening his own mail in detention. He wasn’t supposed to be holding up all the other mail to look at his own. But Matron Pell was once again engrossed in some dusty old medical journal and he _had_ to make sense of what he was reading:

 

_Barney_

_Happy Thanksgiving. Or Merry Christmas. Joyful Easter. Look, I have no idea when you’ll get this, the point is “HI BRO!!!”_

_Hope everything’s going well over there. Your friends keep asking me how you are and I don’t really know what to tell them, so I just say fine and leave it at that. I bet they do something really nice for when you get back._

_Now please don’t read too much into this, because it’s probably nothing, but Marica O’Shay took Theo to the Sadie Hawkins dance. And they were slow dancing to Bon Jovi and they sorta kissed. A lot._

_Before you freak out, please read the below list of reasons that this probably isn’t a big deal:_

  * _It’s Sadie Hawkins, so Marcia asked Theo to be her date – not the other way around_
  * _You know as well as I do that Theo is still super closeted and doesn’t have the backbone to turn down a willing beard_
  * _Marcia O’Shay will make out with A N Y O N E. Even me probably and that’s saying something!_
  * _All the sophomores had had a LOT of Jäger by that point in the night_
  * _Bon Jovi just does something to some people, you know? It’s powerful, man…_



_But you have the right to know these things, even if these things aren’t a problem and not worth worrying about in the slightest._

_I was wondering if you wanted me to give Theo the address to write to you? I bet if you could talk to each other, you’d see that this is DEFINITELY NOT A BIG DEAL and that he’s eagerly waiting for you to come home. Like those YouTube videos of soldiers being reunited with their dogs!_

_Stay cool. I miss you._

_Oscar_

_PS: Mom and Dad wanted you to have this bookmark. I didn’t choose it, but they made me promise to put it in the envelope!_

 The bookmark was a laminated bible verse with a tassel looped through a punch-hole on the end. It read:

 

 _Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off_ everything _that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles._

_And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith._

_For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God._

_Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart._

_This_ sinner was definitely losing heart. Part of him wanted to reach into the contraband bin for some Reese’s Pieces and shovel them into his mouth like a hamster, but he resisted. The candy didn’t belong to him – _his_ parents had sent him a bible bookmark instead.

Marica O’Shay. Marcia. O. Shay?! Marcia whose older brother once called Barnaby a queer O'Shay? No, Oscar had to be mistaken, Theo would never do that.

He grabbed a sheet of paper usually reserved for adding notes listing all the items confiscated from a package and began to write:

_Oscar,_

_Give Theo the address to the retreat immediately. Run, don’t walk, to his house if you must!_

_Please tell him that I am currently in a wooden jailhouse in the forest, looking at a bookmark my parents sent me reminding me that I’m a sinner. Tell him that I’m not allowed to eat anything with sugar in it. Tell him that I NEVER told our parents or his parents who the father is because I was covering for his ass until he graduates and that he BETTER BELIEVE that I will not stand for any first-base bearding while I am trapped in this sycamore hellhole!_

_If you absolutely have to – and I mean absolutely have to – there’s a folder in my iCloud under the picture gallery labeled “thirst traps.” For the sake of your relationship as my dear, sweet baby brother DO NOT LOOK AT THE PHOTOS IN THE FOLDER but forward them directly to Theo’s email address-_

 

“Is there a problem, Mr. Dale?”  
  
Barnaby shot upright, shoving the letter into a pile of unopened packages as Matron Pell slammed her book shut and made her way over to the mail station.

“Uh, no Matron,” Barnaby lied. “No problem.”

Matron Pell narrowed her eyes. “I have to say, Mr. Dale, that most boys on mail duty aren’t as… discreet as you.”  
  
Barnaby stared at her, trying his best to look innocent. “I don’t know what you mean, Matron.”

“It’s not just the gifts that are considered contraband,” Pell said stiffly. “The content of letters can land you in hot water too. Generally, the boys report any letters deemed… inappropriate.”  
  
Barnaby’s eyes darted to the letter in the pile. “S-seriously?”  
  
“Matron Engel even rewards the boys who find illicit content with something from the contraband bin when she’s supervising mail duty,” Pell sniffed. “I tell you this because I believe it’s in your best interest to avoid being assigned extra tutorials with Pastor Wynn.”  
  
She said his name like it tasted bitter in her mouth.

Barnaby frowned. “You don’t like Pastor Wynn?”

“Matron Pell! We have a code red!”

Matron Engel burst into the mailroom, propping up a very green-faced senior boy who Barnaby recognized as his short-lived kitchen duty partner.

“A fainter. His roommate’s only just gotten into the pool. You’ll need to take over”

Pell grabbed Barnaby by the wrist.  
  
“Come with me.”

For a small, almost frail looking woman, Matron Pell could sprint for the Olympics. Before he knew it, Barnaby had been dragged though several corridors and towards the swinging doors of the medical bay.

Pell pulled the partition back to reveal a large clover-shaped bathtub. At Barnaby’s end were two long plastic poles, sticking up out of the base of the tub, each with some sort of rubber flag atop them. Matron Hanlon was filling the tub with water, trying to offer comforting words to its inhabitant.

Barnaby’s heart dropped.

Claude.

Claude panted on all fours, sweat pouring from his body and into the still-filling birthing pool he was kneeling in. He clung to his belly, hanging down parallel to his thighs. His face was even redder than usual and screwed up in pain. Matron Hanlon was rubbing his back.

“That’s it, deep breaths.” Next to her and the pool was a wooden tray, atop of which were a variety of terrifying looking tools. Hanlon acknowledged Barnaby and Pell, ushering them to assist her. “Look you have a friend here to help you.”  
  
Pell got onto her knees and kneeled over the pool, checking the water with her hands. Barnaby, unsure of what else to do, knelt down beside her.

Hanlon stopped the flow of the water. It was shallow, not even a foot deep. She picked up a towel from the water and dampened Claude’s already wet hair. “I need you to get on your back now my love.”  
  
Claude was shaking his head. “N-no… hurts.”  
  
“I know honey, but it’s going to hurt even more unless we make a space for the baby.” Hanlon gestured towards Barnaby. “Help me turn him won’t you dear?”

Barnaby shuffled as close as he would dare and supported Claude’s left side as they flipped him over. Claude’s head was now upside down directly below Barnaby’s. Without his smock on Barnaby could see in full what the pregnancy had done to his body. Violent purple stripes snaked up his hips and belly. The skin over his torso was tight and shiny. His belly button was a convex bulb over too-stretched skin. He was so _big_. How on earth could something so large be inside a person? How was it supposed to get out?

“Help me,” he gasped. “Please… please.”  
  
“I will, I’m here,” Barnaby said, although he had no idea what to do. Pell held down Claude’s arm and leg at one side, signaling Barnaby to do the same on the other. Claude tightly grasped his hand. It was shaking and drenched in sweat.

It wasn’t until Matron Hanlon reached for the scalpel that Barnaby realized that they weren’t supposed to be holding his hands. They were supposed to be holding him _down_.

He was forever grateful that he was at the wrong angle to see what the Matron was doing, but he would never forget Claude’s screams of agony as the water around him turned a deep red.

“That’s it,” Hanlon cooed, urgently pressing gauze to the cut area between his legs. “Well done my love. It will be much easier now. Matron, would you check the position?”

Pell reached out a hand onto the top of Claude’s shiny belly and pushed. The whole thing squashed down like a dough ball. With her other hand, she pushed up against his underbelly. It was rock solid. Suddenly Barnaby understood what dropped meant.

“Head down, feet up,” Pell called out. “It’s staying in place, you can go ahead. Mr. Dale.”  
  
Barnaby shot around, surprised to be addressed in the first place.  
  
Pell, her hands occupied, shook her head over to the direction on the wooden tray. “Do you see that white bottle with the long nozzle?”

Barnaby nodded, not sure if he could speak without just throwing up all over the place.

“Grab it and pass it to Matron Hanlon. Now.”  
  
Barnaby shot to his feet, practically leaped over Pell and picked up the bottle on the table _. Incision Adhesive: 7-12cm_.  He now had a front-seat view of what was happening below Claude’s stomach. He avoided directly viewing the horror as he passed the bottle to Hanlon, but in his peripheral vision, he could see a lot of gauzes and a lot of blood.

“Thank you, Barnaby,” Halon said, taking the bottle and popping it open with the same hand. “I need you to hold Claude’s legs so they stay still and open. If he kicks, I need you to pull down those stirrups and put his feet in, okay?”  
  
She used the bottle to point to the plastic flag poles (stirrups, apparently) shooting out of the water. She turned her attention back to Claude, who was starting to whimper in fear.

“I know all this blood looks scary, but we’re going to seal that up right now. See? Matron Pell is keeping the baby in place, Barnaby is holding you still and I’m going to fix the bleeding in three… two…”  
  
She pulled the gauze away and plunged her head and both hands into the slaughter. Barnaby screwed his eyes shut as he used all his weight to stop Claude kicking in thrashing in the shallow water. He was screaming again and Barnaby wanted nothing more than to scream too. Hanlon made gently hushing sounds that Claude most definitely could not hear.  

“Shh… shhh. Very good. And now the other side…”  
  
More thrashing. More screaming. More burning desire to run and hide forever. Barnaby almost jumped out of his skin when he felt something solid press up against his arm.

“Could you put this back for me please?” Matron Hanlon asked. Barnaby opened his eyes. Hanlon was holding the bottle out for Barnaby but her eyes were still on Claude. Barnaby put the bottle back on the tray. _Incision Adhesive: 7-12cm_. What was the point of cutting someone open to immediately glue them back together again? Unless…

“Edges sealed open. That should stop the bleeding now. And you won’t start to close up again – that’s very important.”

They were sealing around the edges to keep the wound open. Barnaby had to swallow down the acidy bile that was sneaking up the back if his throat.

Pell took her nearest hand off the top of Claude’s belly and pushed down a plunger-like button on the side of the tub. The tub belched as the bloody water began to drain out, washing everything down the drain.

“See?” Hanlon said to Claude. “All clean. This will dry in just a second and we can get new warm water for you, Claude. Won’t that be nice?”

Claude let out some feeble, pained noise as if to agree.

“Barnaby, there’s a jug of water under that tray, will you fill up a cup for Claude?”  
  
Barnaby, grateful to be given a job that didn’t involve restraining someone being tortured, leaped out of the pool and back over to the tray where a glass jug full of ice water sat next to a stack of tumblers. He took the first one, filled it and attempted to hand it to Claude. But Claude, who was holding himself partially upright with his elbows, could not take the tumbler from him.

“Well?” Pell said impatiently. “Help him for goodness sake, Dale!”

Barnaby saddled up close next to Claude, holding the tumbler to his mouth and feeding him the cold water. He braved opening his mouth to say something.

“Are you okay?” It felt stupid. Obviously, Claude wasn’t okay. Okay people don’t scream and beg for help as people slice open their fucking taints.

Claude gulped down almost the entire glass in one go. “Does it look bad?”

Barnaby swallowed. He had been too afraid to look. “I-“

“-Okay, that’s quite enough chit-chat for now,” Pell ordered, throwing a stern look at Barnaby. “Are you ready Matron Hanlon?”

Hanlon gave her a thumbs up as she pulled her hands and gauze away from the sealed edges of the incision.

Pell took her other hand off the underside of Claude’s poor belly and turned on the faucet. Warm water shot out, filling the tub again, no evidence of the horror scene that was surrounding them just minutes before.

“Barnaby,” Hanlon called over as she took off her bloody gloves in exchange for fresh, clean ones. "Put on some gloves and get in the pool.”  
  
Barnaby suddenly slowed down. He grabbed a new pair of surgical gloves from the dispenser, carefully sliding each on as he listened to Hanlon’s instructions.

“Your job is to support Claude.”

Adjusting each finger perfectly.

“You need to stay calm and focused.”

Stretching out his hand to fix the fit.

“Anything he needs from you, you’re going to do it.”  
  
Rolling the ends down his wrists.

“No matter what.”

The thudding sound of the water stopped. The only noise was Claude’s heavy panting. Barnaby knew he had to turn around and get into that damn pool. He took a deep breath and turned around.

Claude was now almost fully emerged in the water save for three peaks; his head and shoulders, his belly and his knees. Each breaking through the surface like parts of the loch ness monster. Barnaby climbed in, joining Claude and Hanlon, pushing the water up so that Claude’s knees and shoulders disappeared. Just a face and a belly. That’s all that needed to be above the surface.

Hanlon placed both hands on the massive dome that was Claude’s stomach and began to massage it in large circles. “Let’s get some activity going again.”

For a while, that’s all that happened. Hanlon rubbed, Pell sat impatiently, Claude sat with his eyes shut, his head rolled back as he let out low groans. Meanwhile, Barnaby sat fully clothed in a warm bath and occasionally poured people drinks like the worst cabana boy in history. His eyes darted to the wall clock. It was two in the morning. His detention was supposed to end four hours ago.

Eventually, Claude’s groans became louder and higher. From hours of nothing suddenly exploded a hive of activity. Pell bent the two stirrup poles down towards the pool, ordering Barnaby to slide Claude’s feet in, which he complied with while carefully avoiding looking anywhere near Claude’s incision.

Claude refused the stirrups, scrambling into a sitting position, bent over as much as his body would allow. Hanlon ushered Claude to sit beside him, his back against the edge of the pool.

“Rub his lower back,” Hanlon urged. “It will help.”

“You’re almost there, Claude,” Barnaby said as he pressed circles into the base of Claude’s spine. He had no way of knowing that was true, but he had a feeling things would start happening soon.

“Do would want to sit or squat my darling?” Hanlon asked as she added more warm water to the pool.

“Up,” Claude gasped. He sounded like he had been running an ultra-marathon.

“Alright,” Hanlon said, scooping her hands under Claude’s armpits as Pell and Barnaby grabbed an arm each. “On the count of three. One. Two. And… up.”  
  
With great effort, the three of them got Claude out of a sitting position and into a squatting one. Barnaby couldn’t imagine how this could possibly be better, but he wasn’t the one pushing a baby out of a freshly minted hand-carved vagina, so he wasn’t going to question Claude’s decision.

As soon as he got on his feet, it was like gravity had kicked in. Pell and Barnaby, both still supporting either side of Claude, had their hands squeezed tightly as Claude clenched through a new wave of pain. Hanlon kept one hand on Claude’s still-dropping belly and another over the incision, waiting for the baby to start making its way out.

“It’s time to push, Claude. Remember your classes.”  
  
Claude began to grunt and strain, his arms trembled as he pushed harder against Claude and Pell. He pushed out breaths like he was blowing out candles before going back to the grunting again. Barnaby was glad to be back in a position where he didn’t have a direct view of where all the action was, but his imagination was displaying what his eyes had desperately been trying to protect him from.

“Keep pushing, I can see the start of the head.”  
  
The grunting became louder and longer as Claude tried to push a human head through a fresh wound. He let go of Barnaby’s hand and reached around under his belly to feel what was going on. _Why? Why would he want to feel it?_

“You see?” Hanlon said. “You see how close you are.”  
  
Claude nodded, suddenly bursting with a new energy. “Yeah, I can feel her.”  
  
He grabbed Barnaby’s hand again (thank god for gloves) and squeezed it firmly. He began once again to push, barely stopping to breathe in between.

“That’s it, she’s coming now.”

The grunt transformed into a bellow, Claude, his chin pressed into his chest, almost stood with the amount of might he was trying to force through his body.

“The head is all the way out!” Hanlon cheered. “Just the shoulders. Just one more big push for me.”  
  
Claude practically growled as he gave one final push. Barnaby saw the gray wriggly shape slide into Hanlon’s hands. It let out a rough, squawking cry as the Matron washed it – her – of all the blood and slime. Claude collapsed into the water, his grip gone on Barnaby’s hand.

Pell swooped herself up and picked up a pair of scissors from the tray, passing them to Hanlon who used them to cut off the cord connecting the baby to Claude. She handed the still-screaming baby over to Pell. They both disappeared back in front of the partition. The crying settled down after a moment, then Pell’s footsteps let him know that she and the baby had left the medical bay. 

Hanlon pushed the button to release the water from the tub once again. “And you don’t even need any more glue.” She gushed. “What a brave boy you are. You did so well, Claude. And you too, Barnaby.”

“Wh-where…” Claude said weakly. “Where are they taking her?”  
  
Hanlon was already up and peeling off her gloves. “You mean the baby? To her mommy and daddy of course. They’re going to take her home.”

“Oh…” he said, sliding down into the empty tub, his shoulders shaking as he began to sob.

“Oh, there-there,” Hanlon cooed. “It’s just the hormones and the tiredness. You’ll be ok once you get some sleep. Here. Let’s get you dry.”  
  
She wrapped a towel around Claude’s still swollen and scarred body. He sniffled as she dried him up. Hanlon turned to Barnaby. “You can get some sleep too now. Don’t worry about classes tomorrow, you’ll be excused.”

Barnaby pulled himself out of the tub, his wet clothes weighing him down and dripping all over the medical bay floor.

“Oh, and Barnaby?”  
  
He turned around at Hanlon’s command. Her plump face turned down in gentle concern.

“If it was you,” she began, “if it was you who went through what Claude just went through. Who had to have his body altered like that… would you want people to talk about it behind your back?”  
  
Barnaby felt himself sink with the weight of his sopping clothes. “N-no, Matron.”

“Then please offer the same level of respect to Claude. He’s been through enough already. The other boys don’t need to know the grizzly details. It’s our job to make sure the boys are informed and ready for childbirth – they don’t need to be frightened by gossip. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yeah- yes. Of course, Matron.”

Hanlon smiled sweetly. “In which case, you’re free to go.”

Barnaby didn’t need to be told twice as he dripped all the way back to his room. Gabriel didn’t stir from Barnaby dragging himself in at three in the morning. Barnaby mirrored Gabriel’s usual routine, yanked his wet smock over his head and throwing it on a heap on the floor before crashing into his own bed. Visions of the evening’s events danced in front of his eyes.

He pressed his palm to his chest, trying to ease his thudding heart. They cut Claude open. They’d cut Barnaby open too in a few months. He felt his hand travel from his chest down his ribcage and to the curved portion of his lower torso. It seemed to get a little bit bigger every day. And one day it would get big enough that whatever was inside would have to come out, and it would be Barnaby’s turn to scream in the tub.

He shut his eyes and tried to sleep. Unsure if the drips falling down his face were water or tears.

 

* * *

**_Bon Voyage_ **

Barnaby shook his head and crossed the words out. He had no idea if the journey was going to be good. He grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and tried again.

**_Welcome Home_ **

No, that was stupid too. Barnaby wasn’t going home with him, it would just sound weird.

**_There’s No Place Like Home_ **

Well, that was the kind of gay shit that would land him in Pastor Chuck’s extra tutorials. Barnaby had pretended to sleep until Gabriel left for breakfast and then immediately took a long, hot shower in an attempt to wash away the night before. It didn’t work, but it did make him want to do something for Claude. He had been the first boy Barnaby had met in the cabin, he had put out a near-fire for him and Barnaby held him down while he went through the worst ordeal of his life, the least Barnaby could do was write him a card. He just had to work out what to say.

He began sketching tree branches and leaves around the edges of the paper in hopes that it would inspire him to find the right message. He tried to think what he most wanted to say to Claude; what Barnaby would want someone to say to him if he was the one in the hospital bed.

He stopped drawing leaves and began to write.

**_It’s Going To Be Okay_ **

The halls were quiet with everyone else in their morning classes and Barnaby didn’t meet any resistance when entering the medical bay.

Claude was laying in the hospital bed, awake but obviously exhausted. He broke into a weary grin when he saw Barnaby.

“Hey,” he said, his voice ragged and hoarse.

“Hey,” Barnaby echoed, he handed the card to Claude. “Here. I know it’s a bit juvenile, but there’s not a store or anything-“  
  
“-It’s perfect,” a smile spread across Claude’s tired face. ”Thank you, Barnaby.”

Barnaby perched down on the corner of the bed, playing with the corner of the sheet. “What did they name her. The baby, I mean.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Claude shrugged, his eyebrows tensing up. “They’ve already gone home with her. I didn’t even really get a good look at her.”

He let out a long, shaky sigh. “I’ll never know if she looked like me.”

Barnaby’s heart began to race again. He cleared his throat. “Does that mean you can go home now?”  
  
“Almost,” said Claude. “My mom is on her way up now and once I get the thumbs up from the matrons, I can finish healing up at home.”

“Finish healing up?” Barnaby asked before he could stop himself. He regretted it instantly. He knew exactly what kind of healing Claude had to do.

Claude looked down. “Well, like you saw - they have to cut you… to get the baby out. They don’t stitch you back up, though. That way it’s easier.”  
  
Barnaby dropped the sheet. Catching Claude’s gaze and staring at him. “That way _what’s_ easier?”

Claude leaned forward, his voice hushed and almost too quiet to hear.

“The next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't question the biology of any of this too hard. Your brain will fall off.


	5. Jesus and John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnaby doesn’t read the good book. But he does read a great one…

_Barney,_

_Wishing you a wonderful Christmas. We love you so much._

_Mom and Dad_

 

CONFISCATED: ONE (1) SEASONAL PATTERNED WOOL SWEATER. NINE (9) ASSORTED CHOCOLATE BARS. FIFTEEN (15) ASSORTED CANDIES.

_ITEMS APPROVED: ONE (1) GREETINGS CARD CONTAINING SEASONAL FAMILY PHOTOGRAPH_

 

_Barney,_

_Hope Christmas doesn’t suck too much. Mom and Dad seem to think you’ll be allowed to keep the Christmas sweater for the holidays, but I say that the uniform policy will be too strict._  
  
_I, on the other hand, am a respectful follower of all rules and regulation and have provided you with valuable reading materials to continue to educate your young mind._

_I think you’ll especially enjoy Mr. Bump. It’s perfect for your reading level. Plus I think you’ll really relate to the protagonist:_

_“The trouble was that Mr. Bump just could not help having little accidents.”_

_See? A perfect analogy for your life. Ha ha ha._

_I also think you’ll find solace in Fat Kid Rules the World. It has bigger words but also bigger characters and bigger heart. Also I figure by the time you finish Mr. Bump you’ll be pretty fat yourself. Or maybe you’re already fat? I’m not sure how pregnancy goes at the best of times, when do you start getting huge? Anyway, let me know how massive you are please. I will never be the skinny one again. I neeeeed this!_

_Finally I present to you a wholesome book about Jesus and his relationship with John the Baptist. Because clearly you need Christ in your heart you filthy heathen._

_I expect a full report on each of your assigned readings. Single spaced. Narrow margins. Display critical thinking throughout._

_Merry Christmas, bro. Love ya._

_Oscar_

_Ps: Theo has the address now. He knows what he needs to do._

 

_ITEMS APPROVED: THREE (3) BOOKS._

 

Barnaby took the three books and admired their covers. _Fat Kid Rules The Word_ had this bright blue anarchist graffiti cover and caught his eye instantly. He’d save that for when he was feeling particularly miserable. _Mr. Bump_ was a thin children’s book with a blue cartoon covered in bandages on the front. Barnaby laughed at how stupid the pun was, but placed it under his pillow to read that night.

 _Jesús and John_ was the one that piqued his curiosity the most. The cover showed the hands of two men, both clutching onto a wooden cross. Intrigued, he flicked open to a random page.

It was not a book about _that_ Jesus.

Instead, his baby brother had sent him a book about a hunky Spanish carpenter (Jesús) who gets rescued by a sexy beach lifeguard (John). The near drowning experience makes Jesús feel born again and he instantly starts having _all_ the sex with John in every possible way.

Clearly the retreat did not take the time to proofread all the books that got sent in.

“Your little brother sent you gay porn for Christmas?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” It was dinnertime and Barnaby rejoiced in telling the others about Oscar’s selected reading material.

“You brother sounds weird,” Edmund said. “But a cool kind of weird, you know?”

“That’s definitely Oscar.”

Edmund shook his head bemusedly as he had a second plate of bell pepper kebobs. He had to stretch his arms out to reach the plate since he had to sit so far back from the table these days. The thought that in a handful of weeks Edmund would go through what Claude did made Barnaby’s stomach lurch. He had told no one about partnering Claude’s birth, knowing that if people found out, they would have nearly six whole months to goad the details out of him; details he would rather forget.

Vincent, sitting opposite Barnaby, leaned closer to him across the table. “So… are you going to read it?”

 

* * *

 

“ _John grins_ ,” Barnaby read aloud. “ _The seawater drips from his sun-bleached blond hair and lands on Jesús’ still-open lips. The salty taste lingers in his mouth. He can’t explain why, but he finds the taste strangely enjoyable._ ”

His narration was broken by laughter. They were in Edmund and Vincent’s room; Edmund was propped up on his bed by several pillows, Vincent and Barnaby both sitting next to him on the floor and Gabriel claiming the lounging space on their windowsill and chewing on a kebob skewer as a placeholder for a cigarette. Having to quit cold turkey was making him irksome, but even he cracked a smile at the novel.

“I can only imagine why,” Vincent snorted. “Proceed, Mr. Dale.”

Barnaby cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face. “ _Jesús is still pinned to the sand by the muscle-bound lifeguard. John is glistening wet, wearing nothing but his regulation uniform speedo-“_

“-His uniform is a speedo?” Edmund choked. “What kind of beach is this?”

“The best kind,” Vincent retorted.

_“Looking down, Jesús can’t help but notice how John’s fit body seems to be deliberately pressing into his. His speedo-covered crotch pressing tight into Jesús’ thigh. Jesús swallows. He’s breathless in spite of the mouth-to-mouth he’s just received. He clenches – usually the only kind of wood he has is the planks in the back of his van, but not anymore-“_

“-Stop it!” Edmund roared with hysterical laughter. “Hold the phone. I’m going to pee myself, you can’t be serious.”

Barnaby lowered the book to stare Edmund down. “Uh… are you questioning the gospel of Jesús and John?”

“No, of course not! I’m getting the picture loud and clear.” Edmund insisted, raising his hands up. “But is it messed up that I’m imagining Gabriel in the role of John here?”

Vincent’s eyes widened. “No shit – me too!”

Gabriel stopped looking out into the forest to pay attention to the others. “You’re doing _what_ now?”

“It’s not personal,” Edmund shrugged, still mirthful from the book. “But when your imagination’s rusty and the description for the character is blond guy who works out.”

“I don’t work out,” Gabriel said innocently, despite having the audacity to be approaching the second trimester without any sort of physical indication that he was even pregnant at all.

Vincent peered at him from over his glasses. “You fix cars all day?”

“Usually.”

“Then you work out. Okay, okay, back to business – what does John do next?”

“Who’s John?”

The boys looked up to the door where Matron Pell was standing and staring at them. Barnaby quickly hid the book behind Vincent, who was suddenly sitting up so straight he looked as if he might snap.

Barnaby began to work out a lie, “He’s… well he-“

“-I need the assistance of Mr. Mendoza in the medical bay,” Pell said, apparently too busy to care about Barnaby’s weak-ass excuses for possessing soft core beach porn novels.  “Immediately.”

Edmund, with great effort, pushed himself off the pillows and into a sitting position. “Why? What’s going-“ He stopped himself, thinking for a moment. “Dimitri?”

Pell’s furrowed brow was enough of an answer. “Quickly now.”

Still keeping the book tucked behind Vincent, Barnaby got to his feet and helped Edmund off the bed to follow Pell down to the medical bay. Edmund looked increasingly pale with every hesitant step towards the matron. He was waddling a little. When did that happen? Barnaby couldn’t really blame him for the dread he must have been feeling. It had been almost two weeks since Claude’s birth and Barnaby still couldn’t get the image of it out of his head. He hadn’t really thought about what the birth was going to be like. He had spent so long thinking about the before and the after that he had managed to forget about the in between. Claude was usually so calm and collected; if he was crying and screaming in terror, how was Barnaby supposed to cope? Would they really leave him cut open like that for the rest of his life?

Nobody spoke for a few minutes, letting a thin film of awkwardness fill the room. “He wasn’t at dinner,” Vincent said, now slouching back down. “Dimitri, I mean.”

“Do you think Edmund will tell us what happens?” Gabriel asked, his voice was cool and aloof, but he was chewing his skewer into fine splinters.

“No,” Barnaby answered honestly. He pushed his palms into his face, trying to wipe away his weariness. “I’m going to bed, it’s getting late.”

Gabriel titled his head. “It’s nine-thirty.”

“Yeah that’s what I said.” Barnaby dragged himself over to the door. “G’night guys.”

“Night Barnaby,” Vincent said softly. Gabriel said nothing at all.

Barnaby swung himself into the hallway and was just about to make his way through the neighboring door into his own room when he stopped and looked back towards Vincent. “Can I, uh-“

“Take your smut, you dirty heathen,” Vincent grinned as he threw _Jesús and John_ at Barnaby’s head.

 

* * *

 

Barnaby woke up gasping for air. He was back in the birthing pool, only this time he was alone. The sound of the rushing water filling the tub rang like thunder in his ears. The pool was much deeper than he remembered, and the water weighed down his clothes, pinning him down and trapping him as the water climbed up and then past his neck. The more the pushed and thrashed, the heavier he seemed to become.

A set of arms grabbed him from above. Through the ripples Barnaby could see the red trunks and blonde hair.

_John?_

Using every bit of strength he had, Barnaby grabbed onto John’s strong arms and held on as the lifeguard pulled him out of the water.

Barnaby’s lungs filled with air as he broke through the surface and John heaved him into the medical bay floor. Barnaby screwed his eyes tightly shut to keep the water out. He could feel John roll him onto his back, straddling Barnaby as he pulled his sopping wet smock off over his head. Barnaby sputtered while John pushed his wet hair off his face, lifting Barnaby’s chin. Barnaby could feel John’s warmth as his face got closer to Barnaby’s, getting ready for mouth-to-mouth. Barnaby opened his eyes, taking a few a moment’s to adjust to the light.

It wasn’t John.

“Gabriel?!”

Barnaby jolted awake. For real this time. He jumped into a sitting position, eyes darting over the other bed in his room where Gabriel was thankfully fast asleep.

Barnaby tried to shake himself out of the weird dream. It was Edmund and Vincent’s fault really, casting Gabriel as John, putting silly ideas in Barnaby’s head. He was extremely awake all of a sudden. He checked the clock above the window, squinting to gain some night vision. It was almost four in the morning. There were probably no point in going back to bed now. He swung his feet out of the bedsheets and stood up, quietly pacing the room in an effort to burn off some of his excess energy. He tried to be light on his feet, not wanting to wake Gabriel and _especially_ not wanting to explain what woke him up in the first place.

However, the footsteps approaching from the hallway outside were much louder.

Barnaby poked his head out of the door. Edmund was soaking wet from the birthing pool. He looked worn out and miserable.

“Edmund?” Barnaby hissed, making his way into the hallway proper and closing the door behind him. “You okay? Did Dimitri… is he?”

“Barnaby, I just want to get a shower and go to bed,” Edmund groaned. His voice was hoarse from fatigue. He walked past Barnaby, he feet squelching with each step. He put his hand on the doorknob to enter his own room but stopped shy of actually opening the door. He sighed. 

“Would you help me take my shoes off?”

Barnaby’s stomach untightened slightly. “Yeah. Anything you want.”

Edmund nodded and let Barnaby follow him into the bedroom and then to the bathroom, where Edmund flipped down the shower seat and collapsed onto it.

Barnaby sat down in front of Edmund, unsure if he should say anything. Wordlessly, he wriggled of Edmund’s wet moccasins, stuck to his feet from dampness but also-

Edmund’s feet and ankles were so ballooned up and swollen Barnaby had to wonder how he even got his shoes on in the morning. There were red lines where the shoes had obviously been digging into to his feet and it was hard to tell where his ankle even began, it was like a bad drawing of a leg: a soft curve from toe-to-shin. Edmund let out a noise of relief when Barnaby freed him from the moccasins.

“Thanks,” he sighed. He tried to push himself into a standing position but his arms buckled and he remained on his shower seat.

“I can help with that,” Barnaby said, his voice gentle. “You’ve had a rough night, just stay put.”

Barnaby rushed to his feet, grabbing either side of the hem of Edmund’s smock and pulled it over his head. His eyes darted to Edmund’s stomach. He was getting huge now. Barnaby looked away quickly. He didn’t want Edmund to think he was staring. Barnaby wrung out the shirt as best he could, hung it over the sink and then make his way to the pants.

When he saw them on Edmund, the weird high stretchy waistband thing made more sense to him. The elastic was like a jock strap for a belly; or maybe more like a sports bra for a bump? It went all the way up to his ribcage. Barnaby pulled the strong elastic down to Edmund’s hips. There were red elastic marks weaved in with thicker, redder stretch marks. Barnaby pretended not to notice as he tried to snake the pants past Edmund’s hips.

“Don’t worry, I’m keeping your underwear on,” he said. “I don’t make a habit out of checking out people’s junk – I promise.”

Edmund snorted, “go ahead, you won't see anything anyway.” He put both hands on his big, round belly, lifted it up and then let it drop back down on top of his thighs. “This thing totally hides it these days.”

Barnaby swallowed. “Oh.” He whipped the pants off quickly, once against wringing out the water and hanging them over the sink. He wanted to ask Edmund how much longer he had, but knew it was a terrible idea so soon after seeing what just happened to Dimitri

“Four more weeks.” Edmund said as if reading Barnaby’s mind. “And then….” He folded his arms tightly across his chest, his breathing becoming more labored. “You know I was scouted last year, right? First string by the end of freshman year, I mean… how many guys can you say that about? I would pull this, this… sled with the coach, the assistant coach, the water boy _and_ all the water across the football field. Now I can’t even get dressed by myself. How pathetic is that?”

He covered his mouth with his hands, trying to get his breathing back to normal. His head sank down.

“I’m just tired,” he said quietly. “Sorry, I… I’m just tired.”

“It’s okay,” Barnaby muttered, turning on the shower. “Let me know if that’s hot enough.”

Edmund smiled, his eyes getting heavier. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Barnaby nodded, squeezing shampoo into his hands and lathering it through Edmund’s short buzzed hair, the foam running down Edmund’s torso; an area Barnaby didn’t dare to wash with his own hands to avoid any weird unwanted rubbing. He let Edmund sit under the hot water alone while Barnaby went through to the bedroom to grab Edmund’s pajamas and a towel.

“You ready?” Barnaby asked, the tower thrown over one shoulder.

Edmund pressed one hand into the seat, reaching the other out to Barnaby to assist him. “Yeah.”

Barnaby grabbed his other hand and heaved Edmund onto his feet, wrapping the towel over his shoulders like a cape. He reached over and shut off the water. The room was now far too quiet.

Edmund patted his face and hair dry before wrapping the towel around his hips as best he could. He gave Barnaby a tender look, pushing his wavy brown hair back and giving him a small kiss on the forehead.

“Thank you, Barney.”

Barnaby smiled. “Any time, Ed.”

“Now go to your room and read your blasphemy porn, will ya?”

“If you say so.”

Barnaby let himself out, letting the darkness of his own room swallow him up as he crashed onto his own bed and, to his own surprise, instantly falling back to sleep.

He dreamed of beaches.

 

* * *

 

In… in…. in…. out. In… in…. in…. out.

Barnaby gave up. No amount of sucking in his gut was going to hide the truth. He had grown. A lot. He remembered seeing Vincent’s belly at 16 weeks; a small round bump on his tiny body. Barnaby was much bigger at only 14 weeks. He was sure he could match up to Vincent _now_ at 22 weeks. Maybe it was because he was so lanky that any change would be obvious. Or maybe because he was so tall it meant that the baby was long. His ultrasound was later on that morning and he hoped that would answer some of his questions. Gabriel, on the other hand, didn’t appear to have a single convex part to his body. Barnaby reasoned that the smoking had made the baby smaller. He had read somwhere that that could happen.

He left the bathroom. Gabriel, who was lucky enough to achieve a full night’s sleep, had already gone down to breakfast. Barnaby suddenly wasn’t hungry, certain that his growth couldn’t possibly be just baby. Not having basketball practice every day after school was obviously having an impact on his waistline. He let out a miserable groan. He had an hour before his ultrasound and the room all to himself.

He made sure the door was shut and picked up _Jesús and John._

Reading (among other things) had done wonders for Barnaby’s mood and he all but skipped to his appointment with Pell. She looked even more cantankerous than usual and Barnaby couldn’t figure out why until he noticed Matron Engel mopping up the wet floor around the birthing pool and the partition hiding the recovery bed where Dimitri presumably slept.  Barnaby made the effort to not be too chipper once he realized what kind of night everyone else had endured.

“Lift up your shirt, Mr. Dale.” Pell said, rolling over a tray with a display of gels, wands and wipes.

Barnaby hesitated before pulling up the smock, he watched Pell’s face for a reaction to his larger-than-average belly, but either she was too tired to take notice, or the whole thing really had been in Barnaby’s head. He didn’t have access to a mirror after all and he couldn’t really get a true idea of how round he had actually got-

“Oh! Cold.” He yelped as the cool gel made contact. Pell peered at the tiny screen. The machine was a clunky gray box and resembled a television from the seventies. Where did they even get an ancient ultrasound machine from? Was there a hospital museum somewhere reporting some missing equipment? If it was a legitimate hospital, why didn’t they have newer machines?

Pell pressed her face closer to the screen, frowning. She looked at Barnaby’s belly and slid the wand around some more, she looked at the screen again, her mouth now imitating a chess bishop.

She shuffled her chair around to Barnaby.

“Mr, Dale,” she began carefully. “Have you noticed any… out of the ordinary side effects so far in your pregnancy?

He nervously wanted to joke that the _being a guy_ part was pretty out of the ordinary in his pregnancy, but he couldn’t get the punchline to make sense in his head. Something had gone terribly wrong. Was it the insane amount of jerking off he’d been doing? Was _Jesús and John_ bad for the baby? Could that even show up on a sonogram?

“What? What did I do?”

Pell sighed. She pulled the curtains over even more to hide Barnaby from sight.

“We need to talk."

 

* * *

 

_Oscar,_

_Thank you for the thoughtful books. I particularly like the look of Jesús and John. I’m sure it will be a seminal read. I will bask in its glory many times over I’m sure. Praise be._

_I’m sorry I can’t give you a present back so I will try to make up for it with the following comments about my recent weight gain:_

_Barney Dale is so fat he’s always in two time zones._

_Barney Dale is so fat he uses bacon as a bandaid._

_Barney Dale is so fat he uses Google Earth to take a selfie._

_Barney Dale is so fat his blood type is Mountain Dew._

_Barney Dale is so fat he jumps in the air and gets stuck._

_I hope you are happy._

_I love you. Merry Christmas._

_Barney._

 

_Oh. And one more for the road:_

 

_Barney Dale is so fat…_

 

_… because he’s having twins._


	6. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several deals (are one friendship) are made.

The chairs in Chaplain Willet’s office creaked more than Barnaby had remembered. Of course, he was at least ten pounds heavier and one hundred times wearier than his last appointment in the room.

“So,” Willet sighed, leaning back in his own chair. “The lord has blessed you twice over, Barnaby.”

Barnaby nodded. He felt a weird wave of shame hit him; like he had been caught doing something wrong by having twins. He wasn’t sure what precautions he was supposed to take to prevent multiples, but still had the feeling like he should apologize for it for some reason.

Willet broke into a warm smile. “What wonderful news this is, don’t you agree Matron?”

Matron Pell, sitting rigidly in the chair next to Barnaby, her little feet barely reaching the floor, cleared in her throat.

“It’s certainly a first. In the two years since… since there’s been a need for these kinds of facility, I haven’t heard of another case of twins. Of course, this means that Mr. Dale’s pregnancy is now classified as high risk, Chaplain, we’ll need to seriously consider whether our clinic can accommodate his extra healthcare needs-“

“-I’m sure we can arrange any and all of Barnaby’s additional needs, Matron.” Willet said, waving his hand. “What kind of support are we talking about here?”

Pell’s mouth tightened before she began speaking again. “More regular appointments, closer monitoring of his blood pressure and weight, extra food to ensure adequate weight gain. There’s a higher risk of complications; hypertension, pre-eclampsia, gestational diabetes - we’ll need all three matrons available for the birth and the due date will be at four weeks earlier than we’ve planned for.”

Willet looked over at Barnaby. “You hear that Barnaby? You’ll get home a whole month earlier that you thought!”

Barnaby found himself completely unable to respond to any of that. An early return home? _That’s_ what Willet took from that laundry list of terrible things that could go wrong with him now? Willet continued to grin despite the obvious horror of the situation. “We’ll need to update the catalogue for our potential parents. Do you know if it’s identical twins?” Willet asked Pell. “Boys? Girls? One of each?”

“It will be identical twins,” Pell answered, “The embryo must have split – it’s the only way it can happen under these circumstances. It’s unlikely but apparently not impossible. It will still be a few weeks before we’ll know if it’s boys or girls.”

Willet nodded, supporting his chin on top of his clasped hands. “Hmmm. So I guess that leaves us with a little bit of a conundrum, huh?”

It left them with at least a dozen conundrums: why did this have to happen to Barnaby? Would they tell his parents? Would they tell the others boys? Would the others boys figure it out on their own when Barnaby just became so ridiculously huge that it would be impossible for him to only have one kid in there? Was it going to hurt more? Would he have to go to a hospital? Seriously, _why did this have to happen to him_? Did he break the embryo playing basketball or something? What-

“-Do we advertise them as twins and charge more, or do we sell them individually?”

Willet’s question wasn’t even remotely close to something Barnaby had in mind. Pell let out a small, but audible gasp. “I really don’t think that’s important right now, Chaplain.”

Willet stared off into the distance, seemingly unaware of how aghast his musings had left the other people in the room. “I suppose to could advertise them as twins and give our parents the option of one or two. We can’t really adjust your contact until we have a buyer on board.”

Barnaby blinked. “My contract?”

“Of course, my child,” Willet suddenly focused back on Barnaby. “You get a percentage for your service to these families. That’s the deal. This gift will not go unrewarded.”

Gift. The word stuck with Barnaby for hours after the meeting was over. It didn’t feel like a gift. It felt like a punishment. What did he do to deserve this? He was grateful that the meeting coincided with Pastor Chuck’s monthly conversion class because he would have definitely seen it as _double_ sign from God that Barnaby was a big, gay heathen destined for hell unless he negged a nameless redheaded girl.

He even struggled with his four-to-five rice at lunchtime, mushing it around his plate as a shrill voice in the back of head scolded him for not eating.

_You have to eat your lunch. You’re having twins. You need to make weight. You’re having twins._

Gabriel waved a hand over Barnaby’s face, trying to gain his attention.

Barnaby’s head shot up. “Huh?”

Gabriel stared at him. “I said what’s going on? You missed Chuck’s sermon, is everything ok?”

“Yeah. Uh, they had to change some stuff in my contract,” Barnaby muttered. “They got my due date wrong by a few weeks.”

It was technically true. Full term for twins was usually thirty-six weeks; a whole month earlier than the usual forty, but it still made Barney feel like a liar. He could already feel the stress chemicals rushing up to his brain.

_You can’t have stress. You’re having twins. You can’t get high blood pressure. You’re having twins._

“They got it wrong?” Edmund asked. “So you’re earlier on or further on than they thought?”

Vincent chimed in. “Well, I mean I think it’s safe to say it’s further based on the size of- _ow_!”

Vincent reached for his shin, which had apparently just been kicked by Edmund who was glaring at him. Third trimester death stares, Barnaby had learned, were among the scariest things on the planet.

Edmund relaxed his face and focused back on Barnaby again. “Honestly? I wish they could tell me my due date was a few weeks earlier – I’d probably already be out of this place!”

“Yeah,” Vincent muttered. “Three more weeks and we won’t be roommates anymore.”

Edmund’s eyes widened longingly. “I know right? Man, I can’t wait.”

Vincent chewed on his lip and didn’t answer, mirroring Barnaby by pushing the rest of the food around on his plate. A silence lingered for a long while until Gabriel pushed himself away from the table.

“Well I hate to leave the gripping conversation, but I have to go… ultrasound.”

“That’s today?” Barnaby asked.

“Yeah, like right now,” Gabriel shrugged. “Whatever.”

Barnaby felt a small flicker of anxiousness in his gut. What if Gabriel was having twins too? It seemed unlikely because Gabriel still had a stupidly flat stomach, but who knew. Like Pell said, it wasn’t impossible. And then he wouldn’t be alone.

 _But you’re not alone._ The voice reminded him. _You’re never alone._

_You’re having twins._

 

* * *

 

Once upon a time, Barnaby had fantasized about what a gym class locker room filled exclusively with gay high school boys would be like. The scene in his imagination made _Jesús and John_ look like _Clifford the Big Red Dog._ The reality was a massive mood killer.

“Can someone help me up? I think I pinched my sciatic nerve again.”

“Guys, guys, check it out – when I sneeze my belly button pops out for a second, ha-ha it’s soooo weird!”

“Shit. I can’t reach my shoelaces…"

The only two people who seemed to enjoy the experience were Henry and Johan, and they only really seemed to enjoy one another; disappearing around the corner to the showers while everyone else was busy putting their workout clothes on.

Barnaby tugged at this polo shirt, which seemed to cling around his midsection all of a sudden. He half contemplated putting his smock back on and doing gym class in his uniform like Samuel did. Samuel, continuing his weird loner streak, didn’t even bother hanging around with the others in the locker room while they got changed, he waited outside instead. Barnaby, in a moment of insanity, almost understood Samuel’s choice to stay hidden in oversized clothes and scowling at people to stay away from him; it seemed more desirable than having everyone stare and ask questions when you had a big secret hanging over your head.

He folded his arms over his midriff, hoping it would help conceal his body better as everyone made their way to the gym hall. He stood in the back row as the room filled, Matron Hanlon standing at the front with a boom box blaring bad pan flute music.

“Alright boys,” she called out. “Tai chi this morning, just do the movements you’re able to do – the important thing here is your breathing. Deep breath in through the nose and then out through your mouth.”

She lifted her arms up and down, conducting everyone’s breathing like an orchestra. Barnaby slowly filled his lungs. He felt his already snug shirt strain as he took in more air. He shuffled back even further from the others, worried he’d catch someone’s eye and raise questions about why he was a giant balloon monster all of a sudden. He tried to shake off his paranoia; it was all in his mind. But _which_ mind?! He had three brains inside his body and soon everyone would find out and they’d all gawk and stare at him-

He wrapped both arms around his stomach, his flight instincts kicking in.

“I have to go!” He bleated, running out of the gym hall.

“Uh-oh,” he heard someone say. “Looks like Barnabarf strikes again.”

He didn’t care if they thought he was leaving to puke, it was a good excuse to allow him to leave. He dropped his pace once he made it to the end of the hallway and realized that no one was following him. He slunk back to his room. Gabriel was apparently still in the medical wing. Barnaby’s smock was still in the locker room. He groaned at the realization that he would have to return to pick it up eventually. He heard footsteps approach his room. He grabbed a pillow from the bed and placed it over his stomach.

“Well, that’s the ultrasound all done,” said Gabriel as he entered the room. He didn’t throw off his smock and sit on the windowsill. Instead he slowly made his way over to his bed and lay town over the sheets still fully clothed.

Barnaby’s grip on the pillow tightened. “And?”

“And… it’s a baby, I guess?” Gabriel shrugged as he looked up at the ceiling, seemingly not curious as the why Barnaby wasn’t in gym class.

“A baby as in… one singular baby?” Barnaby asked carefully.

“Yeah?” Gabriel sounded bemused by the question, but didn’t push it further. “At least according to Matron Engel… I don’t think I realized that this was real until right now.“ He started picking at the skin around his fingers. “I know that sounds stupid, but…”

Barnaby stood up, carefully making his way over to Gabriel’s bed, his pillow still strategically placed over his stomach. “It’s not stupid at all.”

Gabriel screwed his eyes shut, scrunching up his entire face. “Shit, I shouldn’t have smoked as much as I did.”

“But you've stopped now,” Barnaby said, sitting on the corner of Gabriel’s mattress. “And that must have been really hard to do, and you did it.”

“It just seemed like easy money,” Gabriel said quietly to himself, his face relaxing again. “I didn’t think that…”

He opened his eyes and stared at Barnaby. “Can you keep a secret?”

Barnaby became very aware of the curve pressing against his pillow. “Of course.”

“This summer, we his family from Montana come into the garage; a blowout, nothing major. They were driving their daughter down to college. I wouldn’t have remembered, but her younger brother was cute – Aaron - he totally set off my gaydar. I asked him if he wanted to play Xbox with me while we waited for parts from the city and he said okay.”

Barnaby threw him a coy look. “Did you actually want to play Xbox?”

“No, of course not!” Gabriel sat up, actually cracking a smile. “But I live with my brother in the middle of nowhere and I don’t go to school – how else am I supposed to meet people? Anyway, we were playing Doom and I was letting him win and I started saddling up closer on the bed.” He acted out the scene, scooting towards Barnaby, who clung to his pillow even tighter. “I start whispering in his ear.” He was so close and quiet that Barnaby could feel Gabriel’s breath on the side of his face. “He turned around and we started kissing.” Barnaby felt his heart leap. How seriously did Gabriel take his storytelling? Gabriel sat back and Barnaby was surprised to feel a tiny pang of disappointment alongside his relief.

“It was fine for a minute or two, but then he burst into tears,” said Gabriel, his voice still as hushed as it was when he we right next to Barnaby’s ear. “I mean, he just started _sobbing_.” He shut his eyes and paused for a moment, as if he was trying to take himself back to his bedroom with Aaron. “He said ‘ _I’m sorry. I’ve not been able to talk to anyone, it’s been so hard_.’ And I thought he’d been abused or something. And he said he knew we’d never see each other again and that he wouldn’t need to live with me looking at him the way his parents did now.”

Gabriel took a deep breath, but stopped at being able to say the words aloud.

“He had been here,” Barnaby said for him.

“Well, not _here._ ” Replied Gabriel. “There’s a place in Montana – theirs is a ranch, but it’s the same idea; get knocked up, hide away for a few months and sell your baby in exchange for forty thousand dollars. He’d only been home six weeks.”

“Did you believe him?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I… I wasn’t sure what to think. I’d seen conspiracy theory videos online and all the subreddits – we all have. And he seemed _devastated_ , I don’t think anyone could be that good an actor, you know? But it still sounded completely insane.

“So what happened?”

Gabriel laughed sardonically. “Well, _then_ my brother burst in. I remember he had his belt in his hand. Like, he had taken it off to beat the shit out of me with it for acting like a homo, but then he must have stopped himself when he overheard the part about the money.”

Barnaby twisted himself around to face Gabriel. “He was gonna beat you?”

“He didn’t, though,” Gabriel said quickly. “He threw us out of the room and Aaron went back into the little waiting area with his sister and their parents. Ten minutes later his dad approaches my brother with a check for five grand for the tire and ‘ _our discretion_ ’ – his words. That’s when I knew this whole thing was real.”

“Wow.” It was all Barnaby could think to say.

“That 5K was the most money we’ve ever had at once. I was so glad my mom and dad are both locked up right now because that amount of cash to burn would probably end up killing them. I mean, that’ll buy you enough fentanyl to tranq an entire zoo!” Gabriel laughed, but his mouth didn’t quite move enough to form a smile.

“My brother was so nice to me after that – and Josh is _never_ nice to me. I thought he was in a good mood because of all that extra cash, but then he sat me down and offered me a deal. What if I had the mutation and then I could free room and board somewhere for a while and come home forty grand richer? All we had to do was find a potential donor.”

Barnaby swallowed, the twist in his stomach told him that he wouldn’t like where the rest of this story went.

Gabriel blinked a few times. “Like… did you even know Craigslist was still around? I didn’t. Even if I didn’t have the mutation, Josh and I were still making some money from our ads. And could always say no if I didn’t like the guy, it wasn’t _forced_ or anything like that… I wasn’t a victim. It wasn’t like that.” He didn’t sound like he really believed it, but Barnaby fought to keep the pity off his face anyway. “And I didn’t really think there was even a real chance that I had the mutation either. Our deal was that we’d give it until Thanksgiving and if nothing happened, we’d go back to normal.

He sighed, looking up from his sheets. “Well if I wasn’t puking my guts out a month later. That’s why I got here so early, we were _waiting_ for it. And today _still_ shocked the hell out of me. I’m a complete idiot.”

Gabriel framed his face in his hands, hiding Barnaby from his peripheral vision.

“I know the feeling,” Barnaby said softly. “Last week’s check-up was a big eye opener for me too.”

Gabriel paused for a second, dropping his hands and staring at Barnaby in his workout clothes. His eyes narrowed. “Wait… why aren’t you in gym class?”

Barnaby chewed on his lip. “Yeah… about that. You’re on laundry duty this week, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you get me the next size up in, well, in everything?”

Barnaby moved the pillow away. Gabriel’s eyebrow’s shot up to his hair line.

“Whoa Dale, how many have you got in there?” He said jokingly.

Barnaby hesitated before quietly answering. “Two.”

It took Gabriel a few moments to realize that he wasn’t joking. “Oh. Oh Barnaby. Oh shit.”

“Yeah…”

“I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Well apparently it is, it’s just highly improbable,” Barnaby slid into a lying position, throwing the pillow over his face. “And so of course I don’t only get to be a pregnant boy, I get to be the pregnant boy whose embryo split. Lucky me!”

Barnaby groaned, not bothering to push the pillow away so that his whiny breathing was amplified back onto his face.

Gabriel didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he slid around and lay down next to Barnaby. “So… you’re gonna get huge.”

“Yup.”

“Like, really huge.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” deadpanned Barnaby.

“Like, we’re gonna have to do some overtime to keep this a secret.”

Barnaby shook the pillow off his face. “You’re gonna help me?”

“Sure,” Gabriel said, so close to Barnaby their noses almost touched. “We’re friends, right? That’s what friends do.”

Barnaby smiled. “Yeah, they sure do.”

“So it’s a deal. And, as a friend,” Gabriel whispered. “I’d suggest maybe going _two_ sizes up.”

“Shut up,” Barnaby laughed. It was the most relaxed he had felt since getting to the cabin. He never wanted to leave that bed or that moment. He suddenly let go of a heavy weight that had been sitting on his shoulders since those damn lines showed up on that stick.

I was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is curious at to how far along everyone is: Barnaby is 15 weeks, Gabriel is 14 weeks, Vincent is 22 weeks and Edmund is 37 weeks. It's late December. I literally have to keep all this in a spreadsheet because I'd lose track otherwise!


End file.
